


Like Coming Home, If Home was Hell

by TuckerPuppy (HarleyD)



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, At least what passes for one in Oz, Beecher is effed up, Beecher loves Keller, Bottom Beecher, Bullying, But they have a pool table, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Dominance, Eveyrone is in Unit B, Explicit Language, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, It sucks there, Keller loves Beecher, M/M, Oral Sex, Plotting, Prag Beecher, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Threats, Time Line Manipulation a bit, Top Keller, Top Vern, Unhealthy Relationships, Yes I really think McManus is this easy to manipulate, season 5, season 5 canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:16:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9627722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarleyD/pseuds/TuckerPuppy
Summary: Takes place in season 5 while Beecher was trying to get parole.  He doesn't get his parole and Vern offers him a deal, transfer to Unit B and be his prag again in exchange for the safety of his family and Keller.  Broken and desperate he takes it.  Keller returns from Cedar Junction (no death row AU - he just goes back to Em City) and finds his Toby with Schillinger.  And he isn't happy.  Beecher is still kind of broken.I'm obsessed with prag Beecher.  :D





	1. Chapter 1

            It wasn’t like Toby to have his guard down that far.  He was distracted though, thinking about his parole, and by the time he realized the Aryans were there it was too late to do much about it.  The guards were busy and he tried to stand, he had no qualms about running away, but one of them was behind him and pushed his shoulders until he sat back down.

            Vern took his orange, and Robson took his milk, and it was very much like being bullied back in school.  He ignored them and turned towards Vern, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my parole.  I don’t think it is even going to happen.”  His stomach twisted as he apologized, when he was faced with Vern like this sometimes it was hard not to think about those first few months in Oz.

            “Bullshit, of course you will.  Rich boy like you, crying about how you’ve changed.”  The biker was throwing bits of his sandwich back at him, and he took a deep breath, getting ready to keep talking.

            “I-”

            “You aren’t leaving here, bitch.”  Beecher’s jaw snapped shut and he looked down like a trained dog, “You don’t walk out those doors, not without me.”

            Vern’s hand landed on the back of his neck, heavy, and he thought for a moment he was going to shove his face down to the table but he just met his eyes and stared until Beecher looked away.  He let go and slapped his hand on the table, “And clean this shit up!” They got up and headed away, and he was left with the mess to pick up.  Fuck.  He really needed to get his parole.

            Without Keller there with him it wasn’t the same, he had been standing up to Vern for years, but he had Keller at his back.  Even when they were fighting, he knew that Keller would protect him.  He hadn’t been his prag... he hadn’t, even if Keller thought that he was.  But he had still defaulted to Keller and now he just felt alone.

 

            Getting denied his parole was like a punch to the gut.  He had convinced himself that he had such a good chance, but as they asked the questions he had known.  Talking about Schillinger... about Robson.  He wouldn’t let himself out if he was one of them.  He sounded unstable and crazy.  They had said another year, another year of this shit and maybe he would have the chance. 

            He just wanted to keep his head down for a bit, losing his parole was hard, especially when he knew that Vern would be celebrating.  The library was usually empty so he headed there, grabbing a book he didn’t really care about and settling in to a chair, staring at it as he tried to get his head together.

            Around him he saw the few people that were there get up and leave but he didn’t think anything of it.  He was still thinking of his dream, the freedom he had felt walking through those doors, when a hand fell on his shoulder he jumped.

            “Bitcher.”

            Beecher’s eyes scanned the room quickly, there was no one but him and Vern and Robson, no other inmates, no guards.  Fuck, he was going to get stabbed.  He twisted in the chair towards Vern, scrambling to make sure he understood. “I didn’t get parole, I’m not going anywhere.”

            Vern snorted, “How long have you been in Oz and you’re still so fucking soft Tobias.”

            That wasn’t true.  He had cred now, he had built it up on Vern’s suffering and he shrugged his shoulder away from Vern’s hand, “Fuck you Vern.”

            “Aw, don’t be sad because you didn’t get parole.”  Robson patted his head like he was a dog and if he was honest he took that shit from Schillinger, but he wouldn’t take it from fucking Robson.  Robson had never gotten to give him shit. He shoved to his feet and whirled to face him, ready to fight but Vern shoved him from behind in to Robson, who shoved him back towards Vern.  It unbalanced him and he tried to face Vern and was spun around, with Robson’s arms around him, holding him in place.

            He struggled for a moment, though he knew Robson was stronger, but he stilled when Vern slapped him in the face.  “Easy, bitch.”

            Not lowering his eyes at the word was a struggle and Vern laughed at him.  “You know, I thought about what to do with you ToBias, how I was going to get you back.  I thought, I could shiv you and then you’d be dead, but you’d still get out of here without me, wouldn’t you?  I can’t have that.  So I had an idea.”

            Robson grunted behind him in amusement, “Yea, an idea.”  He was breathing right against his neck and Beecher braced himself and went to head butt him but before he could Schillinger grabbed his hair and yanked his head back so it was against Robson’s shoulder. 

            “None of that now.”  He gave his hair an extra tug and met his eyes, “We are about to talk about your future in this prison Beecher.  And the future of your family.  The future of your lover.  You don’t want this conversation to end short because you couldn’t control your temper, do you?  Will you behave?”

            He tried to nod but he couldn’t with the hold, and snarled out, “Yea.”

            “Tell me, yes sir, I understand.”

            Beecher’s entire body thrummed at that, baring his teeth and shaking, but there was no give and he felt like he lost some kind of battle when he finally muttered out, “Yes sir, I understand.”

            “Good.”  He let go of his hair and Beecher was tempted to still do it but he held off, staring at Vern.  Things were never harmless when it was between them and he knew that Schillinger was very capable of killing his loved ones.  “So, you will have parole in another year, right?”

            “Yes.”  Vern stared at him and he took a deep breath and huffed it out, pure rage in his words, “Yes, sir.”  Robson laughed behind him and shifted his hold, and Beecher tried to jerk away when he felt the other man hard against his ass.  It was a brief struggle before Robson had him still again and his eyes flew to Vern, nervous now.  “Let me the fuck go.”

            “I know, you want me to cut to the chase right?”  Vern loved to drag these things out, play his little games, and Beecher had been the victim of them enough to know the longer he played it out the worse it would be. 

            Vern moved until they were face to face, until he could meet his eyes.  “I’m willing to offer you a deal Toby, a generous one.  For my part in it I won’t touch your family.  Not your kids, not your dad, not your brother, I swear that I will never go anywhere near them, nor will my people.”  Beecher thinned his lips and waited, because Vern had him on this.  He knew it was something that he wouldn’t be able to turn down.  “And, just because I’m such a nice guy that believes in love, Toby, I promise nothing will happen to Keller either.”

            “What?”  He couldn’t hide his surprise, his sheer want at that.  He would do anything to keep Keller safe and Vern lit up at his response.

            Vern reached up to touch his face, cupping the side of his jaw, and he didn’t jerk away even though he wanted to.  More than anything in Oz he learned that sometimes you just lose and there is nothing you can do about it but make it through until you can get your own back.  Right now Vern had him, had him with wanting to know about this deal and physically had him.  “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to see that fucker bleeding out on the ground but, you know what Toby?  I don’t think he really was responsible for Hank.  But I guess we will never know.  I was going to have the boys at Cedar put him out of his misery for me, but then I thought.  Maybe Toby would like him to be safe.  You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

            “Please.”  He wiggled against Robson’s hold, though he wasn’t sure what he was planning on doing.  Getting closer to Vern maybe.  Vern had an eyebrow raised and he shook his head before he realized, “Please, sir.”

            “I do love it when you beg.”  He nodded to Robson who let him go, dropping his arms, but Beecher just stood there.  Vern eyed him for a moment before he continued, “So we make this deal and I promise that your family is safe, and that no one will hurt Keller.”  He tilted his head like he was thinking, “Well, I won’t hurt Keller or have anyone else do it.  I can’t be responsible for enemies he makes while he is there, he’s probably already fucked his way through half the prison.”

            He tried not to let that affect him, to let Vern see what that thought did to him, but he knew he couldn’t help the hurt that flashed on his face.  He pushed the thought away and ignored Vern’s smirk and finally asked the question he was waiting for.  “What do you want?”

            The slap upside the head caught him off guard and he stumbled a step before he turned to glare at Robson.  Robson just wagged a finger at him, “You call him sir.”

            That night in the cell came back to Beecher in a heartbeat, that crazy that was just under his skin all the time now, and he growled at him, “Get that finger out of my face before I bite it the fuck off.”

            He had the pleasure of seeing Robson flinch and back up a step, but it was a short lived victory as Vern grabbed his arm and spun him back to face him.  “Guess you don’t want that deal Toby, guess I’ll have to have someone go take a visit to your father next.  What do you think?”

            Every muscle in his body tensed as he and Vern stared each other down but he knew he was going to lose and tilted his head down, “I’m sorry, sir.”  It tasted bitter on his tongue, “What do you want, _sir_.”

            “You transfer to unit B.  You transfer to the mail room.”  Vern grabbed his jaw and lifted his face to meet his eyes, “You’re going to be my prag again bitch, won’t that be fun.”

            “Fuck no.”  He ripped away from Vern and stumbled, putting his back to the wall so he could see both of them.  “Fuck you.”

            “Well no, that isn’t quite right Tobias.  It’s fuck _you_.” 

            Robson started to close in on him but Vern put a hand out, stopping him.  “It’s okay.  I’ll give you some time to think about it Beecher.  I mean, on one hand you could be sure your family and Keller were safe for good, and on the other you’d have to give up yourself, right?  And that is always a top priority for you.  Probably not your fault, you grow up rich you grow up selfish.”

            Beecher was starting to hyperventilate and when Vern moved in on him, boxing him against the wall he couldn’t even think about what he was going to say.  Vern poked him in the chest, “You have one day and then I get your answer.  You’ll transfer to unit B and be my prag, just like old times in Em City, or I start picking off everyone you care about one at a time.  You decide bitch, you decide.”

            When Robson walked past him he gave him an extra shove against the wall, and Beecher stayed there even after they were long gone.  When he finally got his wits about him he gathered up his stuff and headed out of the room with his head down, making his way back to Em city.  He wasn’t going to take him up on that, fuck no he wouldn’t.

            By the time he reached Em city he wasn’t so sure.  If Vern was telling the truth, if he really wouldn’t hurt anyone if Beecher did this... he’d already fucked up so many people’s lives.  Who was he to think that what happened to him was more important.  He was alone in his pod, he hadn’t had a new podmate, and he wished he had someone that he could explain this too.  That would understand.  Except that no one in Oz was a prag.  He rested his head down on his bed for a moment before he looked up, and spotted Ryan pacing the room. 

            He licked his lips, he knew that him and Ryan weren’t friends anymore, and he was sure that O’Reily probably had wanted him dead over the Shemin and Mondo incident, but he didn’t know who else he could say anything too. 

            Ryan finally settled in his pod with his brother and Beecher eyed him.  Out of the corner of his eye he could see Said watching him, but he knew what he would say.  He wasn’t like Said though, or most of the fucks in this place.  They had been hard and came in hard, and would leave that way.  Beecher could put up a mask at the most, but it never stayed.

            Look at him and Keller, he loved him and he knew Keller felt the same way.  But Keller had still been the boss, had still given orders, and Beecher had still followed them, mostly.  He knew that Oz had considered him Keller’s prag and it wasn’t like he would have argued it with anyone. 

            Making his way to Ryan’s pod seemed to take forever until he was there.  Unlike the other people that ran the factions in Oz Ryan never had anyone standing outside his door, no, he liked to deal with people himself.  Beecher hit his palm against the door to get his attention and waited.  Ryan glanced up at him for a long second before he waved him in.  Beecher pulled the door open and stepped in, closing it behind him as he rested back against it.

            “What do you want Beecher?”

            Sometimes he missed the Ryan he knew, that had given him drugs, and comforted him and trusted him.  He ducked his head, “I know you aren’t happy with me O’Reily.”  Fuck, even he could hear his voice wavering hard, and he swiped his hand across his face, muttering a fuck when he realized he was close to crying.

            “Are you okay?”

            His eyes lifted up to Cyril and he tried to give him a smile to let him know it was okay.  “Yea, thanks Cyril.”

            “You’re crying.”

            Beecher winced, and glanced at Ryan who was watching him curiously now.  He looked back to Cyril, “A little.  But I’m okay.”

            By the time he looked back to Ryan he had moved closer.  “What do you want Toby?”

            Hearing his name on Ryan’s lips made his mouth quirk, but he pushed that aside.  There was no reason to drag it out, Ryan only had so much patience.  “Vern wants me to make a deal with him where he won’t touch my family or Keller, where they would be safe.”

            At the mention of Vern Ryan’s face twisted in hatred, “Why are you even talking to that fuck Beecher?”

            He put his hands out and shrugged, “Didn’t have much choice at the time.”

            “Tell him no.”

            Beecher looked up, “You don’t even know what he wants.”

            “If he wants it, then it is shit for everyone else.”

            “He wants me to be his prag.  Transfer to unit b.”

            Ryan looked stunned by that, and under different circumstances he would have been amused to shock him.  “And you are even considering this?”

            “He said that it would protect my family, protect Keller-”

            “Nothing is fucking worth that Beecher.”

            “You’d do anything to protect Cyril, wouldn’t you?”

            Ryan crossed his arms and glanced at his brother before he looked back to Toby, “Why are you even here telling me this?  You tried to get me on fucking death row.”

            “No I didn’t.”  Ryan gave him a disbelieving look but he didn’t back down, “I wouldn’t have.  Especially not with Chris.  Don’t act like you don’t know that.”  It irked him, but having Ryan know that he wasn’t going to actually do anything like that was important, “You know I wouldn’t have disobeyed Keller like that.”

            “Sure looked like you were disobeying him all over the prison.”

            Beecher had to resist the urge to glance at Cyril, it felt weird talking like this in front of him, like talking in front of a little kid.  He couldn’t meet Ryan’s eyes, “He didn’t tell me not to fuck around, he was enjoying playing that game.  He distinctly said he didn’t care.”

            Ryan moved towards him suddenly and Beecher couldn’t help it as he tried to step back and slammed against the door of the pod, a couple people glancing up to see what the commotion was.  Ryan waved off the hack and stopped when he was nearly touching Toby.  Beecher was staring hard at his shoulder but eventually he gave in and looked up at Ryan.

            Ryan searched his face for a moment, “Do not go be that fuck’s prag.”

            Beecher swallowed down hard, “What options do I have?”

            “Kill him.”

            Beecher was already shaking his head, “If I do that they will definitely know it was me, then his people will kill Chris.  This grudge doesn’t end with one of us dead.”

            Ryan still hadn’t backed off, “What do you want me from me Beecher?”

            He didn’t know.  He really didn’t.  If he had hoped the other would talk him out of it, or give him some other kind of option and he shook his head but really, he had known what he was going to do.  “I guess I came to say good bye.  Wanted to make sure there wasn’t bad blood between us.”

            O’Reily was frowning, but apparently he couldn’t come up with any other answer either.  He reached up to put one hand on Beecher’s shoulder, “You got to do what you got to do, man.  I’ll keep an eye out for ya, okay?”

            “Me too, Toby.”

            He gave Cyril a smile before he looked back to Ryan, who held his hand out.  He reached up to take it and when Ryan dropped his hand he gave him one final look.  “It won’t be like when you were here in Em Beech, make sure you know that.  You’ll be in his unit, you won’t have friends like you did here.”  His face lit up a little, “I can get you tits though.”

            He shook his head, no, he wouldn’t go back down that road.  “No, thanks though Ryan.  I just... thanks.”

            There was nothing more to say so he went back to his pod and climbed on to his bunk and stared at the ceiling.  Schillinger would be there the next day and he’d talk to him, and he wanted to throw up at the thought.  He was going to be so fucking smug.  He realized he didn’t really know what being Vern’s prag meant.  He knew what it meant the first time around, but this was different.  Would it be just Vern, would he have to dress like people he saw in unit B, maybe it would be better if he just killed himself.  It was a tempting thought.

            He couldn’t though.  His daughter and son needed him in whatever form he could stick around for, and a part of him knew that if he killed himself Schillinger would kill Keller.  And shit, he couldn’t let that Nazi fuck win.  He could deal with it, he could make it through. 

            A part of him wondered if the only reason he was entertaining it, was even considering it, was that being alone in Oz was too much for him, too overwhelming, but those kind of thoughts hurt to think so he pushed them away.  If this was going to be his last night in Em City, last night not being under Schillinger’s thumb then he was going to relax and enjoy it.  And if his stomach twisted and rumbled, and he spent most of it crying, that was between him and his empty pod.

 


	2. Chapter 2

            Though Schillinger hadn’t told him how to get ahold him, how to tell him his answer, he knew that he would see him when the mail came through.  So he was sitting at a table, staring at the gate waiting.  The sooner he told him the sooner he didn’t have to think about it.  Ryan sat at the table with him, getting him to play a game of cards, and didn’t seem particularly put off when Beecher barely paid attention to what was going on.

            Finally he saw the mail cart coming through, that bald Nazi mother fucker pushing it.  Schillinger’s eyes found him immediately, they always did, and his body language must have given it away because a huge smug as fuck grin spread across his face.  Beecher looked away as he pushed to his feet to get in line for mail, and he heard Ryan take off muttering that he couldn’t watch this shit.

            He kept his eyes down until he was up to Vern before he looked up.  Vern raised an eyebrow at him, waiting and he looked away again and muttered, “Sir.”

            Vern snorted at that and grabbed the mail like he was going through it, looking for Beecher’s stuff.  “All these years and you’re still a bitch, I love it.”  He shoved a piece of mail at Toby’s chest, “Read that.  We’ll be talking.”

            He nodded and thought about giving him a yes sir, but Schillinger was already focused on the next person in line so he bolted instead, heading for his pod, the piece of paper clenched in his fist.  He didn’t open it till Schillinger left, and finally pulled out a piece of paper.  It listed what he had to do to get switched, and it was going to take a little bit of dancing because everyone in the prison, every inmate, ever guard, knew the history between him and Vern.

            He would talk to Sister Pete though, would tell her that the interactions had been going good, that they were working things out, and this was a step in the right direction.  That they would never trust each other if they couldn’t see what the other was doing and this was going to lead to peace between them.  Maybe for good.

            He’d lie through his teeth and land himself in Vern’s hands, and he hated himself for it.  He wished Keller was here to tell him what to do, to figure it out for him.  He wanted him so badly, and that last call with him, where he hung up on him, he couldn’t help but focus on it.  It kept him from thinking about how disappointed Keller was going to be if he found out, and he wasn’t in any place to be making demands but one of them was going to be that Schillinger couldn’t tell him.  Couldn’t send word and use that to taunt Keller, because that would push him enough that he would fuck something up.  Get himself thrown in solitary, or whatever Cedar’s version of the hole was.

            He couldn’t give demands, but at the same time he had some.  He wasn’t a new fish, he wasn’t the same person that had walked in and so full heartedly believed that someone was going to help him.  He could be Vern’s prag and still keep some of his cred.  He swallowed down hard as he thought about that, he was sure it could be true.  It had been with Keller, or at least he thought.  No one was really afraid of him but most people at least left him alone.

            He wouldn’t dress like a girl, he wouldn’t let just any Aryan that wanted to fuck him, no.  He would look for the power that he could with what he had.  He made a mental list and planned out the next step.

 

            The silence stretched through the room and Beecher knew he should be looking the sister in the eye, that he was proving that he was doing something wrong, but he couldn’t.  He knew what she would see.

            “Tobias-”

            “Please sister,  I know that this will be good.  I have faith in it.”  He finally looked up. 

            “Toby, whatever you think this is going to accomplish, whatever plan this is, you know that it will not go well.”

            “No plan, sister, none other than... working on a truce.  With Keller gone...”  His throat threatened to close up at that, tears pressing against his eyes, and he didn’t need this before he faced the other things he had to do.  “Please help me, you know McManus won’t move me there if I ask, he’ll think there is something going on.”

            “There is something going on.”

            He chewed on his lip and forced himself to meet her eyes, “Please, Sister.  I know what I’m doing, everyone keeps telling me what is best for me, but I...”  The words burned away at him, lying to her did, “I realized that I need to make some drastic changes if I want parole in a year.  Having a good relationship with Vern Schillinger will go a long way towards that.”

            She watched him, eyeing him carefully, “I hope you know what you are doing Toby.  I’ll talk to Tim, let him know that this will help.  But if I see something wrong...”

            He nodded, thankful, and then added without looking at her, “And one more thing, Sister, I’d like to be transferred to the mail room.”

 

 

            The catcalls that filled the room when he walked in were deafening, and Beecher struggled to keep his head up.  It had only taken a few days, he had been able to get everything changed around, and all he had to do on his end was avoid the looks the people in charge were giving him and try not to think too much. 

            Vern was leaning against a pool table, waiting for him, watching him with the eyes of a predator.  He had to work hard not to clutch his things against his chest, to not act afraid, when every nerve in his body was on fire.  When his fight or flight response was screaming at him to _run_.  He was so afraid he thought he would choke on it. 

            He moved right in front of Vern and stopped there, looking at his shoulder while he waited.  He flinched when next to him Robson’s hand flung out, knocking his stuff out of his hands, laughter immediately breaking out around them.  He glanced sideways at Robson before he got down on his knees to pick up his stuff.

            This game was easy to understand, even if it was hard in other ways.  Vern moved closer to him while he picked it up and once he had gathered his stuff and looked up he wasn’t surprised that Vern was only a few inches in front of him, his face perfectly dick level.  Beecher leaned back on his heels and looked up at him instead of scrambling to his feet like he was sure Vern expected him too. 

            It made Vern grin and look around, making sure he had everyone’s attention before he looked down at Beecher, “Shit, you’re as much a prag as when I gave you up.  It means a lot to me that you’ve kept my training so near and dear to you sweet pea.”  Vern watched him a moment more before he reached down to grab him by the arm and pull him to his feet.

            Beecher looked away, it was taking a lot of effort to remember how he was supposed to act.  It was firmly ingrained in his head, but it had been a long time since he had done anything other than rage when he looked at Vern.

            “What cell am I in, sir?”

            Vern nodded, pleased with that, and dragged him along with him.  What a difference from the first time when Vern had to pretend like he was helping.  He tried to tap in to how he had felt, the sheer hero worship he had felt when Vern had come to Adebisi’s cell and told him to fuck off.  It wouldn’t help it, but it made him feel better.  He had thought he was being saved, Vern had been like a knight in shining armor, and that had made it easier in the end.

            It had been clear that Vern was a predator, that he was in a sea of predators, and if he had to submit to one of them to keep himself safe, he had been able to justify that to himself.  It was different now, he still wasn’t one of the top predators but he wasn’t the little rabbit running either.  He fell somewhere awkwardly in between, and it was harder to simper like he had. 

            “You’re bunking with me sweet pea.”

            He had thought that might happen but had hoped it wouldn’t.  Had hoped that even if only at night he would have his own space, but he understood the implication of it too.  Here, where Vern could fuck the prags any time of the day, where they weren’t watched like they were in Em city he didn’t need to have him in his cell to fuck him.

            Actually, he was sure that Robson had been rooming with Vern before this, and being cellmates with their leader was definitely a mark of honor for them, marked his rank as Vern’s second in command.  As Vern dragged him towards the cell he twisted, not enough to seem like he was trying to get away, just enough to look around until he found Robson.

            He wasn’t far, of course, and he caught his eyes and threw him a nasty grin.  “Did you get kicked out of the house Robson?”

            “The fuck?”  Vern stumbled to a stop and yanked Beecher around to face him and backhanded him hard in the face, keeping him on his feet when it made him stumble. 

            Beecher whimpered, cause shit, he’d forgot how much it hurt when Vern hit him like that and wiped his bloody mouth on his sleeve before he looked up at Vern, “Sorry, sir.”

            “Are you fucking kidding me?  You’re here two seconds and you are mouthing off to me?”

            Mentally he prepared himself for another hit and spoke quickly, trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve.  “No, sir, I wouldn’t.  I mouthed off at Robson.”

            He wasn’t fully looking at Schillinger’s face but he could see the surprise and by time he glanced at him it had settled in to something like amusement.  “You know, I think I’m happy that you still need to be broken Beecher, I think that will keep this more... interesting.”

            Beecher shrugged at that and Vern started to pull him towards the cell again, this time with Robson following at his heels, looking like he was just waiting for the opportunity to do something, waiting for Beecher to fuck up.

            In the cell Vern let go of him and he stumbled at the sudden release, but as soon as he got his bearings he knelt by the bottom bunk, fitting the sheets on to it.  He had barely got it on when Schillinger grabbed him by the hair and forced him to twist on his knees so he was facing him, and he was undoing his pants.  Beecher could see Robson and another Aryan turn their back to them and block the door, and he had no illusions about what was going to happen. 

            Vern’s cock was out and Beecher looked up at him, his back teeth grinding together without his consent and the thought that he could probably shiv Schillinger in his sleep crossing his mind, and he knew he looked crazy. 

            Schillinger noticed too and paused, letting go of his hair to grab his jaw, leaning down so he could speak right in his face.  “If I feel a single tooth bitch, I will personally remove them all myself.  And then kill Keller.  So think long and hard about that decision.”  He straightened before he added, “If I’m killed, I’m sure you already know what will happen.  You aren’t dumb, just because I’m dead doesn’t mean that you go free.  Everyone you know and love will suffer, do you understand?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            There was no more warning, just Vern’s fingers jerking his mouth open and his fat cock sliding down his throat.  He made a small sound as he gagged and his hands came up automatically but Schillinger slapped them away and he didn’t try to lift them again.  He didn’t fight it, he had sucked enough cock that it wasn’t that hard to do.  It had been different with Keller, but only because he wanted to do it, not because it was any gentler.  After a few minutes he hesitantly lifted his hands to rest them against Vern’s thighs to help balance himself, not sure if Vern would let him do it or not.

            He didn’t complain, and with the added balance he did what he had never done with Schillinger before when he was his prag.  He tried to tilt his head, relax his throat, pressed up with his tongue.  Did all the things that Keller had taught him to do to make a blow job good, to make it rock his world, all the things that Schillinger never could have taught him because Schillinger had never sucked a dick in his life.

            Vern made a surprised noise that sounded like a gasp, and he had the feeling of one of the Aryans looking back like something was wrong but could see Vern wave him off.  The hands in his hair weren’t pulling as hard though, and he realized that Vern was letting him move on his own, whether he knew it or not.  He was sure it hadn’t been a conscious thought, this was more about humiliation and dominance than sex, but in the face of a decent blow job maybe his mind had gone a little slack.

            Beecher’s fingers curled in to Vern’s pants, holding on tighter as Vern’s thrusts got faster, and when he came the fingers locked into his hair and held him all the way down, leaving him gagging and choking around Schillinger’s cock.  He swallowed the cum though, Schillinger had never cared one way or the other if he did, but he knew that it felt good to the cock down his throat, and a small moan made it out of Vern’s throat though he clearly made an effort to stop it.  Once the tremors stopped he shoved Beecher back hard, landing him on his ass in the cell.  Vern was staring down at him like he was angry, and Beecher was sure he had just caught him off guard. 

            Schillinger shoved himself back in his pants and stepped towards him.  He cowered back, and it made Schillinger stop.  “What game are you playing, prag?”

            He waited to make sure that he was really looking for an answer before he pushed himself up, “No game, sir.”

            “No game?  You just decided to give me a blow job out of the goodness of your heart?”

            Beecher tilted his head, voice incredulous, “Decided?”  He wasn’t aware that he had decided, he was aware that he had been on his knees and a cock had been shoved in his face.

            Vern waved his hand though, “You know what I mean.  You didn’t suck cock like that before.  You swallowed for fuck’s sake.”

            “Oh.”  Beecher shrugged and gathered up his stuff on the floor, “No game, sir.  I sucked Keller’s cock enough times that I could be a fucking pro.  I can do it badly if you would prefer.”

            It sounded patronizing, like he was trying to start trouble, and Schillinger looked like he was torn on what to say to that.  Instead he eased back and crossed his arms, and motioned for Beecher to finish making his bed. 

            Normally he would have rushed to brush his teeth, begged to, but he didn’t really care. Not anymore.  Vern did taste the same though, and he didn’t really need that thought.  Instead he leaned over his bed, finishing getting his sheets on.

            “You remember the rules, prag?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            He didn’t say anything else and Vern waited a few moments until he sighed, “Why don’t you tell me them?”

            He paused for a moment with the sheet, getting his words together.  “No drugs, no back talk to you, no fucking around.”  There were more rules, he was sure, but that covered the basics. 

            Vern grabbed his hair and tilted his head back, “No back talk to the Aryans.”

            Beecher held his eyes and very deliberately spoke, “No back talk to you, sir.”

            He was slapped in the face and Vern repeated himself, “To all the Aryans, say it you fuck.”

            Beecher glared up at him and bit out, “I will do whatever you say, sir.”  Schillinger was still staring at him so he answered, “If your people need you to force a prag to give them respect then fuck, no back talk to them either.  Sir.”

            It got the reaction he wanted, just not from Vern.  Robson spun around and shoved him down hard onto the bunk, “What the fuck did you say about me prag?”  Robson was yanking at his pants, and caught one of Beecher’s flailing legs as he tried to kick him away.  “I’ll show you your fucking place, bitch!”

            Schillinger seemed to be frozen to the spot for a moment before he snapped in to action and grabbed Robson by the back of the shirt, yanking him away.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

            Faced with Vern Robson looked a little unsure, pants halfway down and he motioned at Beecher, “I’m putting this bitch in his place.”

            Beecher pulled his feet up on the bunk, tucking them in close to them to watch the show.  They were facing off with each other, both of them looking a little confused about what was going on, and if Beecher had to go out on a limb he would say that up until this point Vern and Robson and the other Aryans had pretty much freely shared prags.

            “Who told you that you could touch my prag?”

            Robson eased back, glancing at Beecher and then back to Vern.  “You’re joking, right?”

            “Do I look like I’m fucking joking?”

            “You’re not going to let me fuck him, after what he did to me?”

            “Why don’t you go back to your post Robson.”

            They stared off and Robson finally huffed and went back to stand at the gate.  Vern turned his attention to Beecher and Beecher tried to wipe the smirk off his face but wasn’t fast enough and Vern grabbed him, dragging him out of the bunk.  It was more than a slap this time, a closed fist that rocked him and made him see stars, followed by another one that left him spitting blood on the floor.

            “I don’t know what game you think you are playing here, but maybe you forgot that I’m not a moron Beecher.  I know what you are doing, but you’ll learn your place.”

            That didn’t sound good and Beecher tried to get his mouth around an apology, but couldn’t get his head together enough to think it out.  Schillinger nudged him with a boot, “Come on cupcake, get up and finish making your bed.”

            He tried to nod, or at least he felt like he was and pushed up to his hands and knees.  And then to sitting up on them, looking up at Vern.  When his mouth finally worked he managed to get out, “I’m sorry sir.”

            “You’re going to be.”  Vern grabbed his shirt and pulled him close, voice lowered so it was just for Beecher.  “I don’t like sharing my prag, Beecher, but if you pull that shit again I will let every single person in this unit fuck you.  Every single one.  Do you want that?”

            He shook his head, “No, sir.”

            “Then watch that fucking mouth.  You aren’t in charge here, Toby.  This isn’t you and me doing this game we have for years where I fuck you over and you fuck me over, you’re mine now.  You belong to me.  You play games and you’ll suffer for it.  Understand?”

            Toby nodded, and when Vern let him go he finished getting his stuff together.  Sitting on the bed when he was done, not daring to talk.  Schillinger seemed content with his reaction and pointed at him, “We are going to play pool.  Stay here and think about what can happen to you if you start shit with my men.”

            He didn’t wait for an answer as they headed towards the pool table, and once he was alone Beecher ran his sleeve over his mouth, and came away with blood.  He glanced at Vern once, he had told him to say in the cell, not on the bed, and he got up to look in the mirror.  His face was already bruised and swelling, and he had no doubt what it would look like to anyone that saw him.  They were going to know right away what was happening and there was nothing he could do about it.

            Robson was laughing out by the table, didn’t seem nearly as put off as he had expected him to be.  Why had he thought it would be so easy to create a rift between them?  Vern was right, he was still trying to play games and all it was going to do was get him killed.  Or hurt worse than he already was.  He had gotten off to a bad start, he was going about this all wrong.  He didn’t want to get passed around, not that he would have much choice if Vern decided.  That was what finally did him in.  Finally made it sink in.

            Since Vern had made the deal he had been in denial about what saying yes would mean.  He had planned on ... what.  Doing it until he got a chance to kill Vern, until he had a chance to... until Keller came back somehow and protected him?  He shook his head, because none of those scenarios were going to happen.  He only had this now, and there was nobody coming to save him.  The only person that stood between him and whatever bad shit was going to happen to him was Vern Schillinger.  He curled up in the bunk, tucking far into the corner and wrapping the blanket around himself. 

            A few times Vern glanced towards him and he tilted his head down when he did, submitting.  When they went in for lock up that night he’d talk to him.  He’d tell him that he knew that he wasn’t doing what he was supposed to but he could.  He had to stop acting like he was going to do anything other than suffer or he wasn’t going to survive.  Already he knew for sure that Vern was going to let at least Robson fuck him, when they had been in Oz no one else had sex with him, but he had taunted the other man and Schillinger was going to fix that.  He was sure.

            “Dinner!”

            Beecher startled as the hack called out for their meal, and he curled in tighter to his blankets.  He wasn’t going to go if he didn’t have to.  Vern walked by the cell though and gave him a whistle, waiting until he unwound himself from the blankets and followed along beside him.  To the left, slightly behind, his head down as he watched Vern’s feet to make sure that he wouldn’t run in to him. 

            Vern barely paid him any mind and Beecher used the walk to prepare himself for what was going to happen when they reached the cafeteria.  The whispers started up immediately and he couldn’t help tucking in a little closer to Vern’s side, trying to block out what everyone was saying.  They went through the line and Beecher only looked up when they got to Ryan, and just from the stare he got he knew how bad he looked.  Ryan turned to Schillinger, snarling out that he was a fuck before he threw down the spoon he had and took off.

            It only made Schillinger laugh and Beecher kept his eyes down after that, following Vern to the table the Aryans sat at, waiting for Vern to tell him where to sit.  To his left, of course, again he wasn’t surprised.  Robson gave him a nasty look and he had the feeling that maybe he had taken his seat too, but there was no gloating this time. 

            He reached for his food, but hesitated before he looked at Vern, “Did you want any of my food, sir?”

            Vern grinned at him before he grabbed the pudding on his tray, “Well, isn’t that sweet of you asking.”

            He nodded, and across from him Robson grabbed his milk, but Beecher just picked up the sandwich and ate it without complaint.  Vern was clearly pleased with the change in attitude, and he felt something in him ease at that.

            “You miss sucking that Nazi cock, puta?”

            Vern turned in his seat and flipped off the Latino that had spoken, “Fuck off,” and went back to eating like it was nothing.  Beecher could do that, could tell others to fuck off but only when he was pushed, not as his natural response.  No, his natural response was to drop his eyes, to hunch his shoulders, to submit until he couldn’t anymore. 

            Maybe he was back exactly where he belonged.

 


	3. Chapter 3

            They didn’t make it to lights out for Beecher to be able to apologize or explain himself.  After dinner they dragged him into a closet in unit B, and he was bent over a shelf with Vern’s dick up his ass before he even really caught on to what was happening.  He couldn’t help crying out, whimpering in to his arm.  Even if Vern had used something to slick himself it still hurt, the rough thrusts stretching him until he tore, and he bit down on his arm to keep himself from being too loud and attracting attention, it would only be bad for him.

            Vern finished and pulled out, slapping Beecher on the ass when he gasped out in pain.  He started to stand up but Vern’s hand shoved down between his shoulder blades, pushing him back down on the shelf as he motioned to Robson.

            “I don’t share this one, not with our history.  You get one fuck Robson, make it worth it.”

            Beecher squeezed his eyes shut as he was shoved into the shelf.  It wasn’t as bad, Vern had a big dick and Robson was average at best, especially after Beecher had bitten the tip off.  Robson’s hand wrapped in his hair and pulled him almost to standing as he fucked him and it twisted his head to the side so he could see Vern standing there grinning, his look a challenge.  He got the message loud and clear.  With a grunt behind him Robson came and pulled out, Schillinger backing him off before he could do anything else. 

            Beecher had his hands braced on the shelf but didn’t move, not sure if that was the end of it or if there was going to be someone else.  Schillinger nodded to the door, “Give us a minute Robson, let me have a discussion with my bitch.”

            Robson nodded and slipped out, clearly pleased now that he got to fuck him.  Like a guard dog, he only cared about one thing.  Beecher leaned forward on his elbows, he could feel wetness slipping down his thighs and a glance showed him it was a mixture of blood and cum, and he wanted nothing more than to pull up his pants.  To cower in the corner and beg Vern not to hurt him.  He could feel the eyes on him and he tilted his head back, showing his throat. 

            “Get dressed.”

            He nodded, gratefully, and found a ‘thank you sir’ slipping out of his mouth as he pulled up his pants, wincing at how uncomfortable it was, and carefully turned to face Vern with his eyes down.  Vern looked so fucking happy, so fucking smug, it made his stomach twist. 

            “Why don’t you tell me the rules, prag.”

            “No drugs.  No fucking around.”  He licked his lips and flicked his eyes up once before he looked back down, “No talking back to the Aryans.”

            Schillinger reached out to ruffle his hair, “See, you can be taught.”  Schillinger looked over him, “You’re bleeding.”

            He couldn’t help but shrug and said the first thing that came to mind, “Yea well, you’ve got a big dick.”

            A snort of true laughter came from Schillinger at that, and he tried to straighten his face to be serious but he seemed to be having some trouble with it.  “I think I see what Keller saw in you.  You can be funny when you aren’t being a cunt.”

            He nodded at that, because yea, that was kind of true. “I’m torn.  Not bad.  No doctor needed, sir.”

            “That’s what I like to hear.”  Schillinger moved closer, “You’re settling in good, aren’t you?  Is this too good Beecher, are you planning on starting something?”

            He was already shaking his head at that, “No.  But I...” 

            “Spit it out prag.”  Vern sounded less patient now, and he wondered what Vern thought he was going to ask him. 

            “Please, sir, don’t tell Keller.”  He looked up, and let his face show, he would do anything to get this.  “Don’t let him know what is happening.  He’ll...”

            Vern’s face had relaxed at that and he shrugged.  “He’d lose it.  Huh.”  Vern looked like he was thinking about it, and couldn’t help but chuckle.  “Okay prag, that is an easy request.  And you know that I want nothing more than to make you happy, don’t you Toby?”

            He nodded his head at that, there was no reason to fight, he had gotten what he had wanted.  “Yes sir, thank you, sir.”

            Vern reached for the door but stopped and looked at Toby, “We’re getting you a tattoo Toby.  One a little more... visible this time.  Let everyone know what you are, what do you think about that?”

            Honestly he hadn’t expected that, and he felt himself cringe.  “Yes, sir.”  He was whimpering though without meaning to, because the one he already had had hurt like a fucker. 

            Vern clearly enjoyed that response and nodded.  “Alright, good.  Come on.”

            He pushed the door open and headed towards the pool table, and after a moment Beecher followed him, limping a little.  He could have stopped it if he really tried, but everyone here knew what had happened so what did it really matter.

            Beecher leaned against the wall and wrapped him arms around his stomach, watching as Schillinger grabbed a pool stick.  Why didn’t they have a pool table in Em City, it seemed like if they could have one here, they should be able to have one there.  Robson bumped in to him a few times, trying to antagonize him but he didn’t rise to the bait at all.  Instead he spent the time wondering what Schillinger was going to tattoo on him, and where he was going to do it.  More visible... that didn’t bode well.  He didn’t think that it would be a swastika, or any of the Aryan symbols, no he was certain it would be some kind of prag tattoo.  Schillinger said what he really was, and that wasn’t an Aryan or any of that.  Hopefully it wouldn’t be across his forehead.  He could just imagine his next parole hearing with that.  A small strangled chuckle made it out of his mouth before he stopped it, but Vern only glanced at him.

            Time passed as slowly there as it did anywhere else, and finally they were in their cells for the night, awaiting the long stretch before lights out.  Toby wasn’t sure if Schillinger was going to try to fuck him again.  He’d already blown him and gotten fucked, and with the way he was bleeding he didn’t want to think about how much it would hurt. 

            Instead he sat on his bunk listening to Vern moving around on the top bunk, flipping pages of a book.  He leaned against the wall and sighed. 

            “Something wrong Beecher?”

            He glanced up at the bottom of the other bunk.  “What do I... can I have a book in here?”  He tilted his head as he thought about it, “Sir?”

            “I don’t give a fuck.” 

            He waited a few minutes and timidly added, “Last time you didn’t let me have anything.  I don’t know... I don’t know what rules there are now.”  He hastened to add, “Other than the main ones.”

            “Things are different here than they were in Em City.  I don’t care what you have in the cell as long as it isn’t something that will cause trouble.  No contraband.  No fucking weapons, obviously.  And as long as it doesn’t take up much space, this is my fucking cell, you just stay here.”

            Beecher glanced across the cells, and licked his lips, nervous.  He crawled out of his bunk though and stood up, waiting for Vern to acknowledge him.  He was reading a car magazine and after a few minutes he raised his eyes to look at him, “What the fuck do you need now?”

            “Sir.”  He licked his lips again and Beecher watched Vern’s eyes dart down to them and back up.  “Am I going to have to... the way the unit B prags dress...”

            Vern’s eyes lit up, though he didn’t know if it was the idea of Beecher dressed like that, or if his anxiousness about it was amusing him.  “Looking to get a half shirt and a mini skirt?”  Vern eyed him critically, “Don’t think you could pull off the pigtails.”

            He looked down and waited until Vern patted him on the head, “Don’t worry about shit like that Beecher, if I want you to you will, if I don’t want you to, you won’t.  You only have to worry about doing what I tell you and sucking my dick.  Easy, right?”

            “Yes, sir.”  He still stood there though, looking at him, and Vern sighed before he set down the magazine and leaned forward.

            “No, I don’t plan on it Beecher.  This thing between me and you, it’s beyond shit like that, isn’t it?”

            He didn’t have to ask what he meant, he got it.  He nodded his head, “Okay.”

            “Doesn’t mean it is ruled out if you piss me off though, got it prag?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            Curled up on his bunk, he thought about what he would get.  There was a book he wanted, he’d have to ask someone in his family to send it.  He didn’t have to worry about getting clothes, he would miss getting to wear what he wanted in Em City.  He wondered if they were allowed to have sweatshirts or anything like that.  It was colder here.

            The minutes ticked away until lights out and he didn’t realize he was making any noise until Vern looked over the edge of his cot.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

            He raised his eyes, “Sir?”

            “You’re... whimpering.”  Vern’s face twisted in glee, “Are you going to cry?”

            He shrugged his shoulders at that.  “Maybe.”

            Again he got that surprised chuckle from Vern but then his face was serious again, “You’re shaking, are you sure you’re not going into shock or something?  I’m not getting a fucking mark on my record because of you.”

            He realized the sound Schillinger had been hearing was him shivering, cold, teeth chattering.  “I’m cold.”

            “And what the fuck do you want me to do about it?”

            He stared at Vern for a moment, resisting the very real urge to point out that he was a moron.  “Nothing, sir.  You asked why I was shaking.”

            Vern seemed to realize that was true and after a moment jumped down to the ground, making Beecher flinch back.  He only rummaged around the chest he had of stuff and when he turned back to the bunks he tossed something to Beecher as he climbed up on to the top bunk again. 

            Beecher caught it out of habit and looked at it.  It was a sweatshirt, obviously one of Vern’s and he hesitated only a moment before he pulled it on.  It smelled like Vern, but everything here smelled like Vern.  He probably smelled like Vern.

            It did occur to him though that Schillinger was being nice, too nice.  He shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth but he couldn’t trust it and that made him wary.  “Why are you being nice to me?”

            “I made you give me a blow job, kicked the shit out of you and fucked you.  That’s being nice?  Maybe you’re more fucked up than I thought, Toby.”

            Well, that was true too, he could give him that.  “For you, yes.”

            “Go to sleep Beecher, you’re going to have a long day tomorrow.  Gotta teach your dumb ass how to deliver the mail-”

            He forgot his place and couldn’t keep his mouth shut, “I’m going to be delivering?”

            “Yup.  Want every fuck in this place to see that I own your ass now.  Do you think everyone will give you shit, or just certain places?”

            He couldn’t help but appreciate the sheer vindictiveness in that.  For Vern, that was a well thought out way to make this worse on him.  He nodded even though Vern couldn’t see, the man was spiteful and it was coming out in full swing.  “Right.”

            “And we will get you your tattoo.  A real one, with ink.   Unless you’d rather me burn another one in you.”

            “No thank you, sir.”

            “So get some sleep.”  Beecher had given up on getting an answer from him and rolled on to his side, huddling under the blanket, wrapped in Vern’s sweatshirt and was surprised when he heard him talk.

            “It’s easy to be nice when you win, sweet pea.  When you so completely beat an opponent there is no doubt who the big fucking alpha is.”  He could hear the shrug, “Not that you probably know what that is like, since you’ve always been the one getting pushed down in the dirt, but I’m telling you it is good.  Makes me generous.  What purpose do I have to do anything other to you than what I’m doing.  I already won.”

            Sleep had been close but at those words it seemed to move farther away.  Beecher curled around his pillow and finally couldn’t stop it any longer as he cried.  He had sworn he wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t give Schillinger the satisfaction but he really didn’t have any further to fall.   What was Vern going to do?  Making fun of him for crying paled in comparison to raping him.

            “Good night, sweet pea.”  The words were pleased, victorious, and it wasn’t like Beecher could argue against them. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The first time Vern had raped him he stayed in bed for days, and Vern had let him, but he wasn’t so lucky this time and he was being dragged out of his bed to go to the showers when all he wanted to do was curl up in bed.  He followed and stripped like he was supposed to, and then got as fucking close as he possibly could to Vern because better the devil you knew than the devil you didn’t.

            He was getting eyed by the people showering, and it clearly entertained Vern, as he glanced around at the jealous faces and back to Beecher.  “Looks like I have the hottest bitch in the prison.”

            Not that Beecher cared, he was too busy trying to scrub himself clean.  Dried cum didn’t scrub off easy, and he wasn’t sure how long they got to shower there.  He did notice when Robson took the shower next to him, eyeing him up, but he only rolled his eyes.  Though he made sure that Schillinger didn’t see him.  He wasn’t completely dumb. 

            Breakfast went about the same, Ryan trying to catch his eyes but he kept them down.  He was following Vern, staring at his feet when suddenly a pair of dress shoes came into his view and he stumbled to a stop.  He looked up to see McManus, Vern just over his shoulder looking annoyed, and he tried to give him a look that said he didn’t do anything.

            “Beecher.”

            Toby nervously shifted and looked away from Vern to McManus.  “Yea?”

            “What is going on?”  McManus looked back at Vern and waved his hand, “Move on, will ya?”

            Vern soured at that, glancing once more at Beecher before he headed towards the table.  Beecher gripped hard on to his tray, he had known this was going to happen.  He had tried to prepare himself for it.  He didn’t go through this just to have McManus fuck it up.

            “No guards reported a fight.”

            “There wasn’t a fight.”

            “Half your face is bruised.”  McManus looked at him and then back to Vern.   “Beecher, you know what this looks like.  I had my doubts when you asked to move, and I can clearly see there is something wrong here.”

            He was shaking his head, “No, just an accident.  Things are going great.  Vern and I have a truce, and are... working things out.”

            “I can move you back to Em City.”

            He kept shaking his head, looking over his shoulder at Vern.  “I’m good.  May I please go eat?”

            He didn’t wait for an answer, sidestepping around McManus when he grabbed his arm and turned him back around.  “And what if I have them take you to medical to get a rape kit done?”

            Beecher couldn’t stop his body from tensing, but that was all he gave away.  “You’d be wasting everyone’s time McManus.  Including mine.  Now can I go fucking eat or not?”

            “Yea, go.”  McManus let him go and he could feel his eyes on his back all the way to the table, could feel him watching him as he sunk into the seat next to Schillinger.  He was aware of Vern turning to look at McManus and giving him a wink, antagonizing him.  From the chuckle he assumed McManus had stormed off.

            Vern threw his arm around Beecher’s shoulders, hand gripping hard enough to leave a bruise, and spoke low, “And what did you and McManus have to talk about Toby?”

            “Nothing, sir.”  He poked at his food, but Vern’s hand stayed where it was.  “He asked if I wanted to go back to Em City, I told him that things were working out good.”

            “Atta boy.”  He took the orange on Beecher’s tray but when Robson went to grab his drink again Vern threw his hand out.  “Eat your own god damn food Robson, or take one of theirs.”

            “Are you kidding?”

            Vern only rolled his eyes, “You can’t take all his shit or he’ll lose weight and get sick.  It’s like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a prag.”  Maybe he thought about his own words because he dropped the orange back on the tray before going back to his own food. 

            Beecher picked up the orange to eat first, and hoped that Schillinger wouldn’t start any trouble for him.

            After breakfast they went to work assignment, and Beecher had seen the mail room a few times but had never spent more than a couple minutes in it.  Vern pointed towards a chair against the wall, “Sit there until I have time to show you what to do.  Stay out of the way.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            He slunk over to the chair and sat there, watching Vern take control of the room like it was second nature.  For all the things wrong with the man, and there were plenty, he did know how to do his job.  When he wanted to anyways.  Once the initial whirlwind of work was moving and everyone had their assignment, Schillinger made his way over to him.  Beecher looked up when he got there, waiting to be told what to do. 

            “Come on.”

            He got up and followed Vern, expecting that he was going to teach him about delivering the mail, but instead they moved to the back room and there was no hack, only a biker and he found himself back pedaling out of the room until Vern grabbed his wrist.  He didn’t need to pull him, or say anything, just the touch was enough to bring him back to what was going on and he moved forward. 

            “Roll up your right sleeve, up to your elbow.”

            Now he could see what was in the biker’s hands and he calmed, because a tattoo he could handle.  That was one of the easier thing he had done to him.  He rolled it up, folding it over, and at least he knew now where he was going to get it.

            Vern pushed him into a chair and leaned over him as the biker took his arm and turned it, resting it on his knee with his inner arm up.  Schillinger leaned over his shoulder, “Do you want to know what it is going to say?”  He shook his head, turning his head away.  “Do you need something to gag you or can you keep quiet?”

            “I can.  Sir.” 

            “Good boy.”  Vern eyed the situation.  “You okay here, Mark?”

            The biker chuckled without looking up, “Yea, I think I can handle your prag without any trouble.”

            Vern nodded, but still looked hesitant.  “I’ll be right on the other side of this door.  No funny shit.”

            Beecher thought he was talking to him but he watched the biker glance up and nod, and he realized what he was saying.  Warning him off of raping him.  It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic.

            Once Vern was out of the room Beecher only had the Biker to concentrate on.  “Try to hold your arm still, okay?”

            “Yea, sure.”  He glanced up at him but Beecher was looking towards the direction that Vern had gone. 

            The pain was immediate, but it wasn’t bad.  He turned his head against his shoulder and forced himself to sit still.  It wasn’t nearly as bad as the burn had been.  It didn’t even seem that long before the pain stopped and mark was grinning, “All done, you going to look at it, prag?”

            He shook his head again, not untucking his face from his arm.  Mark got up and headed for the door, presumably to get Vern and once Beecher was sure that he was gone he did turn to look.  It was about what he had expected, big bold letters down his wrist that said ‘bitch’ that would be visible anytime he did anything.  Shook someone’s hand, handing anyone anything, and he forced himself not to be sick. 

            Vern whistled as he came in to the room, grabbing Beecher’s hand so he could look at the tattoo.  “Nice work Mark.”  He handed him some money, and the biker took off, leaving just the two of them.  Vern took the seat Mark had been in, “You like it?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Thought you would.”  Beecher had started to pull his arm back but Vern grabbed his hand, “Hold on.”  From somewhere on his person he pulled out some kind of bottle, and was rubbing an ointment on the tattoo before he covered it with a bit of plastic.  “There you go, we’ll take that off later, don’t want to fuck up how it is healing.”

            “Thank you, sir.”

            A heavy hand came up to cup the side of his face and turn it towards him, “Now everyone will know that you’re a bitch.  Not that they didn’t already, right?”

            He nodded at that, and gave Vern a self-deprecating smile, “Right.”

            “Let’s go sweet pea, we got work to do.”

            He didn’t learn much that first day, just listened to Vern talk and explain, and he had to admit for something like this Vern was a patient teacher.  Lunch went by without a hitch, dinner too and Robson took the milk of the prag next to him instead of trying for Beecher’s and that was an improvement.

            He was sitting in Vern’s cell, wrapped in his sweatshirt and reading one of Vern’s magazines when he noticed two people in the door way.  He glanced up and recognized them instantly as prags, dressed out like they normally were in unit B.  One had his shirt tied up and the other had his shirt cut up, and they were both glaring at him. 

            “Can I help you?”

            “You don’t look like a fucking prag.”

            Beecher tilted his head, looking at them, trying to understand what was going on.  What answer did he give to that?  He thought maybe it was a test so he finally answered, “But I am?”

            “Then why aren’t they making you dress like this.  Why can’t Robson fuck with you?”

            All at once he got it and chuckled, “Sounds like if you are having issues with the way things are run, you should talk to the person running it.”

            “He means me.”

            Vern’s deep voice sent both prags scrambling to get out of the way, whimpering out apologies as they took off to wherever it was they came from and Vern was just left looking at him with eyebrows raised up, “Making friends, prag?”

            Suddenly nervous he pointed in the direction they had gone, “I didn’t tell them to come over here, sir.  I had nothing to do with that.”

            “You are twitchy, is it wrong that I like that so much?”  Vern moved the rest of the way in to the cell, “They just don’t understand that the tippy top of the food chain doesn’t have to share.  I’ll make sure they learn.”  He pointed to the ground in front of him, “Come here.”

            “Yes, sir.”  He crawled out of his cocoon of warmth and comfort and knelt on the floor in front of Vern, waiting for what he was supposed to do next. 

“Give me your arm.”

            Vern took it and pushed his sleeve up, eyeing the tattoo before he pulled off the plastic.  He touched the edges and then nodded towards the sink, “Wash it up, be careful.  Keep your sleeve rolled up while it is healing.

            “Yes, sir.”  He held his arm under the water and hissed at the sting, but carefully washed the blood off like Vern had told him. The tattoo, for being done in a prison, actually looked good quality.  He twisted his arm this way and that way looking at it. 

            “I sent word to Cedar Junction, you know.”

            Beecher whirled to face Vern, and knew that his face showed betrayal.  It must.  It was the only thing that he had asked of him, he should have known that Vern would go back on his word.  Vern seemed to be enjoying the range of emotion that crossed his face, “Easy Tiger, don’t do anything that you’re going to regret.”

            His fists had clenched but he forced himself to stop, to try to calm himself, but couldn’t keep the words from spilling out of his mouth, “You promised, you fuck.”

            Vern made a tsking sound and motioned at Beecher, “Come here so I can slap you for that.”  Beecher took a deep breath and forced down the rage he felt at that, moving towards him with jerky steps.  As soon as he was close enough Vern slapped him, and it just made his fists clench all over again.

            “Are you calm now, bitch?  Did that remind you of your place?”

            “You promised, _sir._ ”

            “I did, and if you could have kept that cock sucking hole of yours closed for 2 minutes I would have finished telling you what the fuck I did.”  He waited for Beecher to hear what he said when he nodded he continued, “I sent word to the Aryans there to tell Keller that I wouldn’t be going after him.  That I knew he didn’t kill Hank, and that he was safe.  That your dumb fucking ass was safe because I was working towards my parole.  And that you and I worked this shit out without any violence.”

            “Did you tell him...”

            “No.  I didn’t.  Like I _promised_ bitch.  Doesn’t that make you happy?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            Schillinger grinned at him and patted his face in a mocking imitation of affection before he pulled himself up to his own bunk.  “You regretting your decision yet, bitch?”

            Beecher moved back on to his own bunk and thought about that.  Was he?  Did he?  He laid down and put his head on his hand, grabbing the magazine he had.  His family was safe, and Chris was safe, and he was getting what he deserved.  Maybe he didn’t used to feel like that, or thought that he had moved on from that, from the way he felt when he first got to Oz, but after his part in the deaths of Vern’s sons.  He deserved this.

            “Good night, sir.”

            “Good night, Beecher.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

            Beecher eyed the cart and then Vern before he looked back at the cart.  Vern seemed to be waiting for an answer.

            “Uh, yes, I think I got it.  Sir.” 

            He knew he was pissing Vern off, but how hard was it to push around a mail cart?  He forced his face to be neutral, trying to not give him a reason do anything that would hurt him.  Finally Vern snapped out, “You’ll follow me today.  Roll up your fucking sleeves bitch, I already told you this once.”

            He had, and Toby had tried to make it seem like they had just fallen back down on his own, but he had pushed them down and he was sure Vern knew that.  He rolled up both sleeves, leaving his arm bare, and found himself staring at the tattoo.  At least it didn’t have Vern’s name on it.  He almost told him that but he didn’t want to give him any ideas. 

            It was just as hellish as he thought it would be.  He trotted along at Vern’s side, handed the mail to the people Vern told him to, and tried to block out all the comments he was hearing.  He wasn’t sure what was worse, when they would say them to his face, or when they would talk to Vern about him like he didn’t even exist as a human being.

            He was able to shrug off most of what was being said, but he knew that when they approached Em City his feet slowed enough that Vern reached back to grab his shirt and give him a tug forward.  “Come on bitch, something wrong?”

            He shook his head and took his place next to Vern, lowering his eyes when they entered, trying to just focus on his shoes.  Without thinking about it he turned his arm in to him, trying to hide it, though even if he could his face was still bruised and swollen.  He was sure the stories had already gotten around.  You couldn’t hide anything in Oz.

            “Come on sweet pea, don’t just stand there, hand out the fucking mail.”

            “Yes, sir.”  He brought his eyes up from the floor and was met with most of the room staring at them, some laughter, and it was reassuring that there appeared to be more worried faces.  Or unhappy.  Ryan was glaring daggers at Vern, as was Said. 

            A pile of mail was shoved in his chest and he looked down, automatically calling out the names and handing the mail to them as they came up.  As he did it he made sure the tattoo was fully visible, it was what Vern wanted, and it was pointless to try to hide it.

            Ryan was one of the last to get his mail and he stood in front of Beecher, reaching out to grab his wrist instead of the mail, turning it to get a good look of the tattoo.  “Beech.”

            “Hands off the product, mick.”  Vern gave him a shove back, putting his hands up like he was harmless when the Em City hacks stepped forward.

            Ryan stared him down and Beecher used the time to slink back to the cart, making sure all the deliveries were out, leaving Vern and Ryan to make their points.  Finally Ryan pointed at Vern and mimicked a knife across his throat before he headed back towards his pod. 

            Vern huffed and turned, giving Beecher a harder shove than necessary, “Move your lazy ass.”  They passed McManus on the way out, his eyes dropping to the tattoo and then up to try to catch Beecher’s eyes, but that wasn’t going to happen.  Beecher could feel him watching them all the way down the hallway. 

            “Just Sister Pete left.”

            He knew that, and he nodded docilely, taking the mail when they reached the office and heading in to give it to her.  It was just her in there, she hadn’t found another assistant yet and when she noticed it was him her face lit up in a smile that faltered after a few seconds.

            “Toby...”

            “Your mail.”

            She put her hand on his like Ryan had, looking at the marks on his arm and then up to his swollen face.  “You promised me Toby.”

            “And things are worked out.  No more violence.”

            “You are lying to yourself Toby, you think you need to do this to punish yourself but you don’t.”

            “Beecher, let’s go!” 

            Beecher tilted his head towards Vern and then gave the sister a sad smile, “There is no violence, and everyone is safe.  I’m doing the right thing, please don’t interfere.”

            The walk back to the mail room was a short one and when they reached there Vern suddenly dragged him in the room, shoving him hard against the wall in between the stacks, hidden from view. 

            He didn’t know what he had done wrong, he thought he had followed every order, did what he was supposed to, and he cringed back against the wall.  “Sir?”

            “Fuck.”  Vern’s body was shoved tight against him and now Toby could feel that the other man was hard, rock hard, and when a hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head back Vern bit his neck, letting go just short of bleeding. 

            His head was let go just enough to look at Vern and then he was being kissed, and he didn’t remember Vern doing that before.  A fat tongue was in his mouth, dominating the kiss, while Vern ground his hard on against him.  Clearly, he had enjoyed the mail run.

            Finally Vern pulled away, panting a little, “Fuck.  Now they all know, I own you Beecher.  We fought and you fucking lost and you are _mine_ and everyone knows it now.”

            He thought the kissing would continue, or the grinding, but Vern let him go and stepped back a few steps.  “We’ll pick this back up later sweet pea.”

            Beecher nodded, at a loss for words.  He understood it, Vern got off on domination, on power, and he had been a thorn in Schillinger’s side since he had thrown that chair.  He was sure for all his being a bitch and no one giving him any cred he had hurt Vern’s rep more than anyone else had.  And now Vern had what he wanted and Beecher was his prag again, and he got it.  What he didn’t understand was why his own body had tried to respond, his dick thinking about getting hard while he had been ground against.  While Vern had kissed him, the sharp burn of the bite on his neck.  He _hated_ Vern, he wasn’t turned on by him.  He didn’t want to have sex with him.

            But, he had a lot of sex he didn’t want since coming to Oz.  It had been good with Keller, and he had enjoyed it, but it wasn’t like the day he walked in with never having so much as a finger up his ass.  Keller had taught him to enjoy it, and he really couldn’t stomach the thought of enjoying it with Vern.  Not when it was rape.  Not when he really didn’t have a choice.

            They finished what needed to be done in the mail room, and went to dinner, and that night in their cell when it was lights out he wasn’t surprised to feel Vern climbing out of his bunk and down to Beecher’s. 

            “Hey, Bitch, you awake?”

            Once he had pretended to be asleep, thinking that it would stop Vern.  It hadn’t.  He rolled on his side to face him and nodded, “Yes, sir.”

            “Strip down and get on your stomach.”

            Instead of answering he started to pull his clothes off, shirt followed by his pants and then he turned on to his stomach, pulling his knees under himself and resting his head on his arms.

            “I remember when I had to fight you just to get you to this point.  I guess I have Keller to thank for this.”  A weight settled behind him on the bed, between his legs, and he automatically shifted them farther apart to make room.

            A slap on his ass rung out through the cell and he bit down on the blanket to keep from making any noise.  “Seeing you today Toby, that’s fucking good.  Doesn’t it feel good?”

            Hands were pulling apart his ass cheeks and there was a slick cock pressing at him, and he wondered if he asked Vern if in the future he could prepare himself he would let him.  It couldn’t hurt to ask. 

            It hurt not to.  He huffed out a whine when Vern kept pushing in, not slowing, not giving his body any time to adjust and he missed Keller so much.  Vern settled over him when he was fully seated, mouthing at the back of his neck, his shoulder, teeth almost breaking the skin.  Beecher didn’t want to like that, but the small pain, the bite of it and he struggled not to respond.

            Normally Vern would already be half way to finished, pounding him hard into the mattress but he still hadn’t budged, shifting his hips a bit but mostly staying fully seated.  The longer he stayed there the more... comfortable it got.

            Vern didn’t stay on his neck, no, a hand directed him to turn his head and then Vern was kissing him again, awkward at the angle, but combined with the small thrusts the bigger man was doing Beecher felt his dick twitch under him.  He tried to hide it, but when Vern shifted just the right way he managed to press against his prostrate and Beecher was glad his mouth was occupied because he wasn’t sure he could have hidden the whimper.

            It must have been heard anyways, must have been some kind of signal because Vern pulled back at that, sliding out slowly before he slammed back in, at the same angle, over and over and eventually Beecher couldn’t help his hips tilting up, pressing back, thankful that any reaction he was having was buried in the blankets under him. 

            As soon as that thought crossed his mind suddenly Vern’s arm was under him, around his chest and pulling him into an upwards kneel.  It drove the man deeper and Beecher couldn’t help crying out, though he managed to keep it just to a whine.  All the skin touching while Vern moved was too much, and he had nowhere to put his hands so finally he reached up to grab at Vern’s arm, just to give him some balance. 

            “Shit Vern, that bitch is hot for you!”

            It sounded like Robson yelled it out, but Beecher couldn’t be sure, and he knew what they were talking about.  He was hard, pulled up like he was he couldn’t hide it, couldn’t do anything but ride out Vern’s thrusts.  Finally the arms tightened around him just as Vern bit down on his neck, breaking the skin, cumming hard inside him.

            The pain pushed him over. And without thinking he bit down on Vern’s arm, since it was right there and accessible and it kept him from screaming out.  Vern lurched forward, pressing him down into the mattress, and they both stayed there for long moments panting.

            Vern finally knelt up, pulling his arm out from around Beecher and smacked him in the back of the head, “You fucking bit me.”

            “M’sorry sir.”  He felt like he was in a haze, wrapped up in his orgasm, in pain and self-loathing.  “I didn’t mean to.”

            Maybe he hadn’t realized it before, but suddenly Vern snorted.  “You came, you poor dumb fucked up bastard.”  Vern pushed to his feet but leaned against the bunk, “You liked it.”

            There was no point denying that, he could argue until he was blue in the face that his physical reaction didn’t mean he wanted it, that he liked it, but it would fall on deaf ears.  He finally pushed himself up to his knees, winching at the sharp pain in his backside. 

            He knelt back and reached up to the touch the bite mark on his shoulder and came away with blood.  It made him glance at Vern’s arm, and he had bitten hard enough to draw blood as well.  Just like a real fucking couple, weren’t they.  He wiped at his face where he had been drooling and reached for his clothes.  Vern was still standing there so he stopped and looked away, “Can I get dressed?”

            “Sure, Toby.” 

            He carefully reached for his clothes, pulling them on without taking eyes off of Vern.  Eventually the bigger man pulled on his own clothes, but it was disconcerting that he kept looking at him.  Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and snapped, “What?”

            “Hey, I’m going to let that go, since you’re probably all hormonal after sex, but watch the tone prag.”  Vern reached out to grab his hair and pull his head back and to the side, touching the bite mark.  It hurt and made him wince, and Vern moved to rub his thumb over Beecher’s mouth.  “You know, I thought that this would get boring fast.  But you aren’t the same fuck you were back then, are you Beecher?  You practically rode my cock like it was your job, I like to see that kind of dedication."

            Beecher yanked away and rolled over, ignoring the wet spots and pulled the blanket up to his chin, snapping out, “Fuck you.”

            Vern laughed at that, patting him on the side before he pulled himself up to his bunk.  “Yea, fuck you too Beecher, fuck you too.”

            Toby stared at the wall, tried to ignore his shoulder throbbing, his ass throbbing, tried to ignore that the orgasm had made his body soft and pliant and sleepy.  He was in over his head, it was out of control and the only thing he could do was give in and let it take him where it would.  Giving up all his control, curled up in bed, he felt weightless.  It was almost a relief.

 


	6. Chapter 6

            Keller was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting to get through the gate of Em City, scanning what he could see.  He couldn’t believe that Beecher wasn’t there waiting for him at the gate.  After he had hung up on him, he knew that he had hurt him.  He had expected Beecher to still write though, to keep sending the letters, he knew that Beecher couldn’t stand to stay away from him.

            So when the letters stopped, it had hurt, and that made him angry.  And then the word from that Schillinger fuck, just on principal he had almost shivved the Aryan that came to him to give him the message from Vern that he wouldn’t go after him.  The only thing that had stopped him was they said Toby was safe too, that Schillinger and him had a truce and if everything stayed the way it was no one would get hurt, no one’s family would get hurt.

            He waited for a letter about it, for Beecher to tell him but nothing had come.  Now to see Beecher not even waiting for him, it made his heart ache.  There was no way in fuck Toby was going to move on, to forget about him.

            Finally the gate opened and he slipped through, glancing over everyone to see where Toby was.  He didn’t see him in the common room, and a cursory glance of the pods he didn’t see him either.  The pod that he was supposed to take had some biker fuck that he didn’t know, and it made sense that McManus wouldn’t put them together, he liked to fuck with people’s lives like that but he was sure he could get it worked out without too much trouble.

            There were a few shouts as he came in the room, people welcoming him back, and some people giving him dirty looks.  O’Reily looked up at him, and he expected hostility but there was something on his face that made his stomach sink.  He beelined for him and dropped his shit on the table, “O’Reily, where the fuck is Beecher?”

            Ryan and Rebadow exchanged a look and Keller was having a hard time keeping his panic under control.  “Did he get transferred somewhere?”

            He knew that the other man hadn’t gotten parole, so he had to be somewhere.  Maybe he was in protective custody, maybe things had gone to shit with Vern. 

            Ryan looked unhappy, and not the act he normally put on, but truly unhappy.  “Keller, hey man, you’ve been gone months.”

            That was true, it had been half a year, but it wasn’t like he thought Toby would move on.  Was this all over Beecher fucking someone else?  He would take care of that easy enough, picking off his lover’s dalliances was one of his favorite past times.  “He fucking someone?”

            “I’m going to tell you what happened but,”  Ryan leaned close and met his eyes and looked dead serious, “Remember not to kill the messenger, okay?”

 

 

            Keller stood in the cafeteria, staring at the Aryan table.  Beecher was sitting next to Vern, who had a hand on the back of Beecher’s neck possessively.  Vern turned to point to something in the room, talking to Beecher, and Keller could clearly see Toby look in that direction and respond to Vern, who laughed.  Toby didn’t look upset, there was an easy look on his face, almost amused, and Vern dropped his hand as they got up with their trays.

            He couldn’t move as they got up, frozen to the spot.  Beecher spotted him though, and was just suddenly running towards him.

            “Chris!”  Toby practically flung himself into Keller, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face against Keller’s neck and it took a second for him to realize that Keller wasn’t hugging him back.  He started to pull away but Keller’s hand snapped out, grabbing his arm and twisting it to look at it.

            Beecher looked down at it too, and his eyes darted back up to Chris’ and he looked horrified.  Keller couldn’t help tightening his hand until he was sure to bruise him, “It’s fucking true?”

            “Chris, please-”

            “This is what you have been doing Toby?”  It wasn’t just the tattoo, now that he was close he could see the hickeys up the side of Beecher’s neck, a bite mark, and those weren’t the kind of marks you left on your prag.  Not when that was all it was and he could barely see straight he was seeing so much red.

            “Chris, please, let me explain-”

            Before he could finish his sentence Vern stepped into their space, grabbing the back of Beecher’s t-shirt in a balled fist and pulling him back against his chest.  He leaned down to snarl right in his ear, “Bad prag. Go.”

            He let go of Beecher who gave Chris a pained look, desperate and begging, but did as he was told and headed towards where Robson was waiting.

            Chris watched Robson cuff Beecher upside the head when he got to him, and Beecher cringed away but didn’t go far, and just stood with his head tilted down.  He forced his attention back to Schillinger, “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

            “Hey, why don’t you just calm down there and think this over.  We don’t have to fight Keller, we can be friends.  Why don’t you transfer over to unit B, I’ll even let you fuck him once in a while.”

            Keller lunged at Vern and got a solid hit in before the hacks were on them, dragging him away while he screamed that he was going to kill him.  Vern touched his eye, that would definitely swell up, but still had a grin on his face as he watched Keller get dragged off. 

            Finally he turned around to where Beecher was watching, and stomped towards him.  When he reached him Beecher flinched.  “I’m sorry, sir.”

            “Let’s go.”  He grabbed Beecher by the elbow and dragged him along at his side, keeping his pace fast enough that it was a struggle to keep up, and didn’t slow down until they were in their unit.  “Cell, go.”

            Beecher nodded and headed there, sitting on the bottom bunk, waiting.  Vern watched him for a minute before he looked to Robson, “Well, that went well.”

            “He’s going to be trouble.  We’re going to have to take him out.”

            Vern nodded at that but there was a frown on his face, and without having to say it Robson knew what he was thinking.  They all did.  If they killed Keller, Beecher would lose his mind.  And Vern had grown... fond of him.  Fucking him was good, and the little bitch was amusing even when he wasn’t being fucked.  Six months of Beecher being his prag, and they had settled in to a nice little routine.  He didn’t want to lose it, and that pissed him off.  Beecher shouldn’t have that much power over him.

            “Just keep an eye on him for now while I think about what we are going to do.”

            “You got it, Vern.”

            He headed straight for the cell and when he made it through Beecher sunk from the bottom bunk to his knees without being asked to, and gave Vern a pleading look.  “I’m sorry, I just saw him and ... I’m sorry, sir.”

            “I told you he was coming back.”

            “I know, I just ...”

            “You know he’s not going to stop until he kills me, or we kill him.”

            Vern had a front row seat to seeing Beecher’s eyes well up at that, big fat heartbroken tears and he pushed away the hurt that he knew it wasn’t because of him.  “Please...”

            “Please what?”

            Beecher shuffled forward on his knees until he was close enough to touch, “I’ve been so good, I’ve done everything you asked, please don’t hurt him.”

            That was true, Vern reached out to pet Beecher’s hair and even like he was now, even after seeing Keller and the fear he still leaned in to the touch.  Spending that much time with someone when you were fucking but not particularly hateful things got a little blurred.

            “What do you propose then sweet pea?”

            “Let me talk to him.”

            The hand that had been petting his hair was used to slam into his shoulder and knock him back against the bed.  “How fucking dumb do you think I am?”

            “Please, sir-”

            “I let you anywhere near him and you and him will come up with some plan to kill me and then you’ll suck his cock.  Or let him fuck you.  I know you Beecher, that bitch side comes out real fast with guys like him and me.”

            Beecher was shaking his head though, “I wouldn’t break the rules, I promise sir.  I can convince him not to do anything.”

            “No you can’t.”  Vern crowded in on Beecher against the bed like that, “There is no stopping him from what he is going to do, what he wants to do.  You can’t convince him of shit.”  Seeing Keller had brought up that cruel streak, the one that had settled into mild bullying and the occasional humiliation and he tugged at his pants.  “Come on, get up.  Suck my dick.”

            “Yes, sir.”  Beecher’s hands shook when he reached out to finish getting Vern’s pants off, and his eyes were unfocused and before he even got Vern’s cock in his mouth, he gave him a slap in the face. 

            “Pay attention to what you’re doing.”

            “Sorry, sir.”  He did refocus his attention though, leaning forward to take Vern in his mouth, sucking and bobbing and that fucking tongue flicking along his cock.  Vern braced both hands on the top bunk and let Beecher lead.  He didn’t need to force him to go down until he gagged, or to go faster, no, Beecher did that all on his own.  As that talented mouth worked him towards orgasm he thought about what he was going to do and by the time he was cumming down Beecher’s throat he had made a decision.  He tucked himself away and pulled Beecher up to his feet, kissing him on the mouth, but without tongue because fuck, he had just had his dick in his mouth.

            “What do you think you’re going to talk to him about?”

            Beecher saw the opening and licked his lips, “I’ll ask him not to do anything.  That this is keeping us safe, that it was my decision.”

            Vern shook his head, “That won’t help you, everyone knows that you were his prag Beecher, he isn’t going to care that it was your decision.”

            Toby couldn’t help twitch at that, but he had already pointed out enough times that he wasn’t actually Keller’s prag, it didn’t help anything.  In the eyes of Oz he was.  He tried again, “I’ll convince him to join you.  You have worked together before.”

            “And how well do you think he’ll handle watching me fuck you every night?”

            Beecher leaned back against the bed, defeated.  “Not well.”  He rubbed his hands on his thighs, “If you kill him, I’ll kill you.”

            The backhand was completely expected and Beecher took it without complaint, stumbling sideways but he caught the edge of the bed and pulled him back up and met Vern’s eyes, and said the honest truth even if he fucking hated himself for it.  “But I don’t want to Vern.  Are you fucking happy, I don’t want to kill you.”

            Actually, he was.  But he didn’t let it show, instead he grabbed Beecher’s jaw and pointed at his face, “You ever threaten me like that again and you’re going to get passed around the entire cell block.  Do you understand me?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            They stared at each other until Beecher moved slightly, putting his hands on Schillinger’s chest and leaning his head down until it rested against his shoulder and Schillinger felt his mouth twist, refusing to be manipulated.  Beecher spoke against his shirt, “I don’t know what to do.  Please, let me try to fix this.”

            Finally, grudgingly, he lifted his hand to be back of Beecher’s head and patted it before he pulled away.  “I’ll arrange for you to talk to him.  Aryans at the door.  If he tries any shit with you then he pays the price, you make sure he understands that.  I’ll let you talk to him and then we will go from there.”

            “Thank you, sir.”

            He was getting soft in his old age, he knew that he was, but he only patted Beecher’s head again and muttered out, “I’m too good to you, prag.”

 

            Beecher was having second thoughts as he stood outside the door to the library, and he couldn’t help glancing at Vern every few seconds, swallowing nervously with a dry mouth.  Vern was watching him and finally snapped, “What the fuck is wrong?”

            Honestly, he was nervous about seeing Chris, but that wasn’t what was wrong.  Vern would be happy to hear it so he almost didn’t want to say it, “I’m worried if he is sure he can’t get me back that he’ll kill me.”

            Vern made a movement with his head like he agreed, “That is why there are Aryans watching the door, when I made this deal with Keller I told him no weapons and had my boys check him.  We’ll be right here.  I’d go in with you but he’s not going to talk about shit if I’m standing there.  Right?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            Vern squeezed his shoulder and forcibly turned him towards the door.  “I’ll be right out here.”

            It was strange to be hoping that Vern would protect him from Chris, and it made something deep inside him, some buried feeling push its way out but when he went through the door it disappeared.  Keller was standing there and he wanted to rush to him, to be held by him, to feel his mouth on his.

            He knew that Vern would be pissed but he couldn’t seem to help himself, he would take the punishment.  Keller got to his feet when he reached him and he grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him forward so they were pressed together and smashed their mouths together.

            It was like coming home.  Keller hesitated for a moment but that was all and then hands were wrapped in his hair and he was being held so tight it hurt, and he couldn’t stop whimpering into Keller’s mouth.  Another hand wrapped around his waist, pulling their bodies together and Beecher was just relaxing in to it when Keller abruptly pulled away with a laugh that sounded more like a snarl.

            “Jesus fucking Christ Toby, you reek like Schillinger.  Do you know that?”

            He was unsteady on his feet, all he wanted was to be back in Keller’s arms and he took a step forward but the other man put a hand out to stop hm.  “Chris...”

            “What the fuck is going on Toby.  I’m gone for a few months and I come back and you are fucking _Schillinger_?  Are you serious?”

            “I made a deal.”  He finally leaned back, giving up on Keller holding him again.  “Me.  All by myself.  I finally had something that I could use to keep everyone else safe.  My family.  You.  What else was I supposed to do?”  He couldn’t stop the hysteria in his voice, “Vern was going to kill you, and I had no one left here to protect me.  What was I going to do?”

            Keller stared at him, and at least he didn’t tell him that there had been other options.  There were other options for people like him and Schillinger and O’Reily, but bitches like Beecher, there was no fight.  There was only submit.  So he had used what he could.  Keller finally reached up to brush a hand over his cheek, but then slid it down to his throat.  He didn’t need to see to know that Keller was touching the marks there.

            “Just his prag, right?”

            “Yes.”  Beecher wanted to look away but forced himself to meet his eyes.  “Just like when I first got here, I’ve really come full circle, haven’t I?”

            “Toby...”

            “Fucked and humiliated and used.”  He held up his arm again, “Marked and owned.”  He had lost track of what he was going to say and glanced at the door before he looked back to Keller.  “I don’t want you dead, Chris.”

            “You think he could take me.”

            “I don’t know.  But even if you kill him the Aryans will come after you.  And me.  And my family.  And it will never end.”

            “What do you want me to do Toby?”  He dropped into the chair and after a moment Toby did too, clasping his hands between his knees and staring at them.

            “I don’t know.”  He wished he had a better answer, because Keller sure as fuck wasn’t going to like what he heard.  “Work with Schillinger?  He said you can come to unit B, and you can be part of the Aryans, and...”

            “And watch him fuck you?”

            For a moment Beecher thought it was funny how similar they seemed to be, that Keller and Schillinger both thought the same.  Made the same leaps, the same assumptions.  Of course, they were both predators.  He shrugged and leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Tell me what I’m supposed to do Chris, what am I supposed to do?”  He was begging now, “Please help me.”

            Keller let out a long sigh as he leaned back and put his hands behind his head.  “I’ll talk to Vern, I’ll see what the fuck he wants.  For now, but it won’t stay like this Toby.  You’re fucking mine, and I don’t share.”

            “I know.”  He nodded, and ducked his head, but there was some hope that maybe things would work out okay.  If Schillinger let Keller in to unit B he would get to see him every day.  They would like it because it would be easier for them to watch each other, but Vern would use it to taunt Keller, and eventually it would end in a blood bath.

            He didn’t know what he could do that wouldn’t end up with more deaths.  He knew that if Keller took Schillinger up on it he would have to ignore Keller, he’d have to keep his distance, because it would only incite both of them.

            “Chris... please.”

            Keller chuckled at that and shook his head, “You’re a mess Tobe.”  He leaned forward but didn’t touch him again, “How are you though.  Are you hurt?”

            He shook his head, “No more than usual.”  He was embarrassed, “He doesn’t... as long as I do what he says.”  This was the hard part and he gnawed on his lip, “And I do what he says.  There is no reason not to, everyone here already knows what I am.”

            “Why hasn’t McManus moved you back to Em City?”

            “I’ve asked him not to.”

            “I’m going to ask him to, Toby.  You can still be Vern’s prag from Em City right, the deal should still be on.”

            Beecher whined in a way that was supposed to be a laugh, “He wouldn’t allow it.  He-”

            “I think your time is just about up, bitch.”

            Vern had slammed the door open and Beecher startled, whimpering and cringing away from Chris.  The look said he knew what had happened, knew that he had kissed him and he was going to pay.  When Schillinger got close enough he moved to his knees before him, tilting his head down.  Vern gave him a dirty look but moved it to Keller, “I’m fucking watching you.  I’ll set up a time to talk and we can discuss what we are going to do.  I’m proposing a truce until then and nobody,”  he very purposely glanced down at Toby, “And no one has to die.”

            “Yea, yea you fuck.  I got it.”  He stood up and put his hand out and after a moment Schillinger shook it and then he grabbed Beecher and dragged him to his feet and out of the library.  He didn’t even dare glance back.

            In the hallway Vern’s grip didn’t loosen, and he leaned down to snarl at him, “You broke one of the 3 big fucking rules princess, you know there is going to be consequences for that.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            Vern glanced sideways at him and as soon as they turned the corner from the main hall he shoved him against the wall and shoved a finger in his face, “And I don’t mean a slap on the wrist.  You did that knowing it was going to piss me the fuck off.  Knowing that I didn’t want you touching that fuck.  So a real punishment, because you are getting awfully fucking complacent in your position, aren’t you?”

            Beecher only sighed but when he felt Vern tense he glanced back up, “I’m sorry sir, I wasn’t trying to be difficult.  I know, punishment.  I shouldn’t have, sir.  I’m sorry.”

            “You will be.  Come on.”

            He started to pull him off the wall but Beecher resisted, making him stop.  “Vern, sir, please.  You know that... I couldn’t help myself, not with Keller.  Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry.”

            Vern was clearly wavering and his mouth was in a grim line.  “You are getting punished for this.  But I will... take into consideration that you are a weak fucking pussy bitch that can’t help herself though, is that what you’re asking me for?”

            It was supposed to be mocking, but he was long past caring about that.  So he only nodded and looked down, “Yes, sir.  Please.”

            “Okay, but I’m telling you right now Bitcher, you’re going to get boring real quick if you act like this.  No one likes a disobedient prag.”

            Which wasn’t entirely true, because he kind of was, and Vern kind of did.  Hopefully he downgraded a punishment of getting beat and gang raped down to something more manageable.  Though it did cross his mind that Schillinger had given in a little too easy.       

 


	7. Chapter 7

            Beecher kept his head down, his mouth closed as he limped after Vern into the cafeteria.  He got his food and slid in to his seat, whimpering a little, which made Vern smirk without even looking at him. 

            Vern hadn’t let him be gang raped by the brotherhood, but he had fucked him dry, holding him around the throat while he growled in his ear that he would make sure he knew he belonged to, that he would fucking feel all day who he belonged to.  He had torn, bled, and he probably needed a doctor but he didn’t ask. 

            He had thought that would be the end of it, but then Vern had pulled out and held him down between the shoulder blades, and had called a biker in without letting him get dressed.  At the time he thought he was going to let him fuck him but he had recognized the tattoo paraphernalia immediately and cried out, burying his face into the pillow. 

            Schillinger had slid onto the bed after pulling on his pants and held Beecher’s head in his lap by his hair, holding him still while the biker straddled him and the pain started on his back.

            It was a bigger tattoo, he could tell, across his shoulders under his neck.  It hurt more than the one on his arm did, and he had the feeling this was something worse, so halfway through when he couldn’t take it anymore he cried, pressing into Vern’s lap.  Above him Vern stroked his hair, made small comforting sounds, like he wasn’t the one causing all the pain.

            It seemed to go on forever, and he was hyper aware of that not only did his back hurt, but his ass was still leaking blood and cum.  Finally the tattoo stopped though it took him several seconds for him to realize it.  When Vern let him up he stumbled to his feet and moved to the sink, on autopilot as he tried to clean the blood running down his legs.

              Vern came up behind him while he did so with a towel in his hand, and he watched in the mirror as he dabbed at the tattoo, cleaning off the excess blood before he covered it in the same thing he had his arm.  He braced his hands on the sink and stared down at it until Vern leaned forward and rested his chin on Beecher’s shoulder, “Do you want to know what it says?”

            “No.”  He shook his head, “It doesn’t matter, sir.” 

            Vern nodded against his shoulder, “Have it your way.  Do you understand that now that Keller is here it doesn’t suddenly end this deal we have?”

            Before he could answer Schillinger spun him around and pressed him in to the sink, pushing his clothed body against his naked one.  It was uncomfortable and made him feel more vulnerable than he already was.  He leaned down until he was in Beecher’s face, “You understand that this isn’t just a deal anymore, don’t you?”

            Beecher licked his lips, but nodded.

            It wasn’t enough for Vern, and he continued.  “You chose to be my prag again, but you don’t get to choose to leave Beecher.  No one will ever see you as anything other than my prag here, there is no opt out option.  The only thing you can do is fight and then I will just make sure that you’re beaten down enough that it ends that.  Do you understand?”

            “Yes, sir.”  It wasn’t lip service.  The first month he had felt like, felt like being Vern’s prag was still a choice.  That the alternative was a crappy option – that his family and Keller would be in danger, but that it was still an option.  He wasn’t sure when that had changed but he knew that it had.  If he tried to leave Vern would kill him, or Vern would force him to submit.  There was no out.  “Can I please get dressed?”

            “Yes.”

            He slowly pulled on his pants, wincing and cringing, and as soon as he was dressed he slid in to bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin.  When it was dinner time he cried when Vern tried to make him leave the bunk and finally Vern threw his hands up in the air and told him to just fucking miss dinner then.  He had cried most of the night until Vern threatened to gag him, and finally fell into a fitful sleep.

            And now it was morning, and Vern hadn’t let him stay in bed.  No he had dragged him to the shower, and whatever the tattoo on his back said everyone seemed to get a kick out of it.  Vern asked him again if he wanted to know what it said, but he shook his head. 

            While he ate Keller approached them and he didn’t dare look up from his tray, sliding a little closer to Vern, and was rewarded with him patting his thigh like he was his boyfriend.  Or his dog.  Keller sat across from them and glanced at Toby, but his eyes were for Schillinger.

            “I’ll come to unit B.”

            “You know I run it there, right?  If you come, you are coming in to my house and you will have to follow my rules.”

            “Sure.”  He leaned back, “But I want to be a full member of the brotherhood, got it?  I’m not going to be someone’s fucking prag, and I’m not gonna listen the likes of Robson or whoever the fuck else you have there.  Got it?”

            “Are you telling me how this is going to go down?”

            “I’m telling you what I’ll agree to.  Or we can start a war.  Up to you Vern.  You know what I really want and I didn’t ask for that, so how about a fucking compromise.”

            Vern bit into his apple thoughtfully before he looked at Beecher.  “Turn around and lift up your shirt, let him see your new tat.”

            Beecher briefly saw concern on Chris’ face but he turned around and tried to pull his shirt up, Schillinger grabbing it to help him.

            “Fuck!”  He heard Keller’s tray slam down and by time he turned around he was stalking away from them, and okay, now he kind of wanted to know what it said. 

 

 

            Keller had to remember his end goal as he stormed back to Em City, otherwise he was going to go back to the cafeteria and beat the shit out of Vern.  Shiv him right in that smug fucking face until there was nothing left.

            As he reached Em City he took a few calming breaths and turned towards McManus’ office.  He made it to the top of the stairs and the hack stepped in front of him and he had to stay calm, if he lost his temper no one would listen to him.  “I need to talk to McManus.”

            The hack glanced at McManus, who nodded and waved him in, and he went through the door carefully closing it.  When he turned to McManus he counted to three before he could say anything and McManus noticed.

            “You seem calmer than usual.  Something wrong?”

            “You need to transfer Toby back here.”

            McManus leaned back like he had been expecting that, and crossed his arms.  “He doesn’t want to get transferred back.”

            “You know what is going on.  What Schillinger is doing to him, how can you just sit there and let it happen?”

            McManus shifted, he was trying to act like he didn’t care but it was obvious that he did.  That he was guilty, and Keller tried to push at that.  “The day he walked in to this place why did you even let him switch to Schillinger’s pod?  You put him in with Adebisi for Christ sakes.  A lawyer with no record, why the fuck didn’t you put him in with Rebadow?”

            The hack had moved towards the door at the yelling but McManus waved him off.  “Don’t think I don’t fucking think about it Keller.  I can’t change it now.  I tried to get him to come back, I could transfer him but it would cause more trouble than it is worth when Beecher doesn’t want to stay here.  He’s been clear that if I do he will make sure I send him back to gen pop.”

            “I’m here now though.  Move him here, in a pod with me, I promise you that he will behave.”  He knew he was pushing too hard, and that was just a little too much and the guilt slid off McManus’ face.

            “See, this sounds like it is just going from one shitty spot to another for Beecher.  I’m not going to condone this in Em City-”

            “But Unit B isn’t your fucking problem, right?”

            “We’re done.”

            Chris nodded, fists clenching, but moved to the door.  He stopped as he opened it and looked back, “He tattoo’d  ‘Property of Schillinger’ on his back last night, did you know that?  Do you think that this is going to end in anything other than him killing Beecher when he gets bored?”

            “If you convince Beecher to move back to Em City, I will move him Keller.  That is all I can do for you.”

            It wasn’t enough, nothing less than Beecher with him would be enough, but he nodded.  He leaned against the door, “Oh yea, and I need you to transfer me to Unit B.”

            McManus only stared at him, “What?”

            “Please McManus.  Transfer me to Unit B and in a month Beecher and I will be ready to be transferred back here.”

            “Do I look like a fucking travel agent?”

            “Please do this for me McManus.  Do this and I promise you that from now until I die here I will be on my best behavior.  I won’t cause trouble.  I just want Toby, that’s all.”

            The entire conversation was making McManus uncomfortable and he felt like he was trading in someone’s life like they were a thing but he finally nodded, “Okay, I’ll get it set up.”

            “Thank you McManus.”

            By the time he was to his pod the rage had dissipated enough that he could think straight and the beginning of a plan was coming around.  He’d have to talk to O’Reily but something told him that he’d have his help.  Maybe the Italians.  He’d beg help off of anyone that he could get if it meant getting Beecher back.  But for now he would transfer to Unit B, and he’d play beta to Vern’s alpha, and be able to keep an eye on Toby.  It was the best he could do.

 

            “It says Property of Schillinger, you know.”

            Beecher looked up at Winthrop, one of the newer inmates, young and pretty he had been marked as a prag the second he walked through the door.

            “What?”

            “Your tattoo.  No one is telling you, but that is what it says.”

            That stung, that Schillinger’s name was on him.  He was sure that Chris was going to enjoy looking at that every time he fucked him.  Of course, he shouldn’t be thinking about fucking Chris at all.  He tilted his head like he could see it and then looked back up at the man, “Oh.”

            “You don’t care?”

            He shrugged one shoulder and looked back to his book, “Not really.”  
            Winthrop tilted his head looking at him, “Can you teach me how not to care?”

            Shaking his head he made a dismissive motion, “No.  Go away.”

            “Cunt.”  The man stomped off, pig tails bouncing, and Beecher turned his attention fully back to his book.  He should have known that Schillinger was nearby, watching him, and he moved into the cell.

            “Meow.  Cat fight?”

            “Sir.”  He looked up, waiting to see if Vern wanted anything from him, but when he didn’t he went back to his book.  It only lasted for a minute before Vern stepped forward and grabbed it out of his hands.

            “What stupid shit are we reading today?”

            The look of surprise on Vern’s face when he found himself looking at a translated version of Mein Kampf was worth the fact that Beecher had been idly working his way through it for at least 2 weeks, waiting for the bully part of Schillinger to kick in and take it.  He was curious what it said, not because he believed it, but understanding how the Aryans thought kept him safer, kept him from accidentally putting his foot in his mouth like that time he’d tried to explain that Jesus wasn’t white.  God, had he ever really been that stupid.

            “You’re reading this?”

            He nodded and reached for it, and Schillinger handed it back.  “I tried the German one but I don’t know German well enough to follow it.”

            “You speak German?”

            It was odd that it had never come up before and he nodded his head, “Some.  I learned it in school.”

            For a moment Vern looked unsure and Beecher would bet everything he owned, which to be fair wasn’t that much, that the man couldn’t speak German.  To cover it Vern kicked the corner of the bed, rocking it a little.  “Why are you reading that?  Trying to suck up?  Because if that is what you want I have a better way you can.”

            Beecher waited to see if Vern was going to go for his pants, but it seemed like an idle threat, just joking so he answered the question instead.  “I thought it would be good if I understood it better.  I’ve never... I only know what I hear.  If I’m here I might as well.. I don’t know.”

            Vern looked like he was thinking and then an odd look crossed his face, “You know that you can’t join the brotherhood ever, right?  Is that what you are trying to do?”

            “God no.”  That might have been over kill and he quickly put up a hand, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.  I mean I know prags don’t join, I was just... curious.”

            Vern was still looking at him like he was suspicious and Beecher finally dropped the book, “I’m sorry sir, is there something else you would rather me be reading?”

            “No, but I don’t trust you.”

            Beecher snorted at that and picked the book back up, “I’m pretty sure you can trust me, sir.  You have eyes on me 24 hours a day.  I do whatever you tell me.”

            “Yea, except now your boyfriend is back, isn’t he?  That changes things.”

            The flinch was unavoidable and he dropped the book on to the bed and slid off it to his knees, but didn’t stop there, bending forward until his forehead rested on Vern’s boot.  “Please.”

            Vern shook his foot to get Beecher to back up, “Please what?”

            He rested his head on the floor instead of Vern’s boot.  “I can’t control that he is here, you already showed me what happens if I do anything with him, please don’t hurt me.  I don’t know what else I can do.”

            “Come on bitch, sit up.”  Beecher did and he wiped his hand across his face, and didn’t realize he had been crying.  He wasn’t pretending, they were on the path right now to Vern beating the shit out of him every time he thought about Keller, and what could he do against that. Vern grabbed his head to tilt it up, “You sure as fuck got the message, didn’t you?”

            “Vern, just tell me what you want me to do.”

            “And you will do it?”

            He was nodding his head frantically, he needed Vern to believe that.  “What if I tell you to hurt Keller, where does your loyalty lie now?”

            Beecher let out a small sob, covering his face with his hands because they both knew the answer to that, but it wasn’t the one that Vern wanted.  Vern’s hand dropped on his shoulder and he tried to stop the sobs, tried to rein it in but they only got worse. 

            “Jesus.”  Vern’s hand disappeared only to come back down on the back of his head, wrapping his fingers through his hair and tightening just short of hurting, comforting in the way that only Vern could do.  “Beecher, take a fucking breath.”

            That resulted in wheezing gasps as he tried unsuccessfully to, and now they were starting to attract attention.  The hand tightened till it hurt, “Beecher, are you listening to me?”

            “S-sir.” 

            Vern sat down on the bunk so he was eye level with Beecher and grabbed his face with both hands, pushing Beecher’s out of the way.  “Look at me.  And breathe.  Don’t hyperventilate on me, got it?”

            Beecher fixated on Vern’s face and his words and started breathing in and out, focusing on him and eventually he calmed down enough to find the words.  “Please...”

            “I got it.”  He didn’t move his hands, holding Beecher’s face still, “This will be between me and Keller, okay?  You just do what you’re told Beecher.”

            He clung to those words, the relief that the other men would work it out, that he didn’t have to struggle with it and he felt weak.  “Sir.”

            “Man, here I thought I was the one that turned you out.  But you are soft Tobias, you must have been born that way.”

            The words were familiar and they struck the same chord in him as when Keller had said them and Toby couldn’t look away because Vern’s hands wouldn’t let him, so finally he just nodded.  He didn’t know if he really believed that, he had been a good lawyer and had held his own, but had this part always been deep inside him waiting to come out? Maybe.  He had rolled over quick enough.

            “Sir.”  It seemed to be all he could say and Vern stood up, pulling Beecher up with him.  Vern’s sleeve swiped across his face, at the tears, and they stood silently looking at each other. 

            “Okay.  When Keller gets here, there will be rules.  Understand?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “No touching.  No alone time with him, always other Aryans around.  No talking to him.”

            Beecher could feel his face fall, it was going to be torture.  To see Keller and not be able to do anything about it, but he nodded, tears coming again though he fought to stop them.  It would just make Schillinger mad.

            “You are both going to have to accept that you lost.  You’re mine and he is just one of my men.   Nothing more, nothing less.”

            “Yes, sir.”  He thought of kissing Keller in the library, the feel of his lips on his, and felt his heart break all over again.  He didn’t even know it was possible to still shatter.

            “I think we have an understanding here.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Get your face washed off, Keller will be here later today, and let’s not get off on the wrong foot by him finding you here crying, all red faced and swollen eyes, yea?”

            He nodded.  Maybe not much was expected of him, but he knew that if he didn’t behave Keller never would.  He couldn’t control him, Beecher was sure that _nobody_ could control him, but all it would take was Beecher giving him the right look.  Begging him.  Needing him and Keller would give in and break the rules.  He got up and splashed water on his face, taking a few deep breaths and turned around, only to freeze.

            “Vern.”

            “Did you already forget to call me, sir?  All it took was mentioning Keller?  If you think it would set him off to see you crying, it sure as fuck will to see that pretty face all bruised up.”

            “Sir.”  Schillinger was holding up a half shirt, tied up like a college coed on spring break and Beecher was shaking his head.  “Please.”

            “Are you begging to have this pretty shirt, Beech?  Could I deny you anything?”

            When he just kept staring at him Vern moved forward, unbuttoning his shirt.  He didn’t help but he didn’t fight him and once his shirt was stripped off Vern was undoing his pants, rolling them over so they barely hovered above his ass.  He snagged the shirt off the bed and handed it to Beecher, but he only took it in his hands and held it.  With an annoyed sound Vern took it from him and muscled it on him, standing back to eye his handiwork.

            There had only been a few times he made Beecher dress in drag, because, to be honest when he had first come in he had been not quite as pretty, but hard living and working out had changed that.  Actually, he looked pretty fucking good like this.  Vern leaned against the bunk so he could take it all in.  Beecher had a flat stomach now, hip bones peeking out from the pants and he put his finger out and spun it.  “Turn around, let me see.”

            Beecher was still glaring at him, hands clenched at his sides but he turned and Vern whistled, just to piss him off.  The shirt was cut so his new tattoo was visible, and for a man he had a tempting ass.  Vern moved forward quickly, grabbing on to those hips and pressing him down hard over the sink.  He used the hold to wiggle pants down a little further, and once Beecher’s ass was halfway on display he finally reacted, whining and trying to pull away.

            He slapped him in the ass, more playful than punishment, but it stilled him.  “Atta girl.”  He pulled the pants down a little further so they were just under his ass, and he was tempted to fuck him right there, but he knew he had to give him a few days to heal.  Instead he traced the swastika and then backed off, letting him scramble to pull the pants up.

            “Shit, if I had known you’d look this pretty I’d have started doing this months ago.”

            The shock seemed to be finally wearing off and Beecher looked up at him, pleading, “Sir, this is... punishment?  Not...”

            “Not permanent?”  Vern looked him up and down and shrugged, “I don’t know, you do look good like this.  How about some make up?”

            So, he hadn’t really expected _this_ to be what kicked crazy prag mode in to gear, but before he knew it he was looking at the Beecher that was a wild animal.  Backed against the wall, teeth bared, challenge all over his face.

            Vern had seen it come out a few time in the last six months, but not many.  And not without severe punishment following it.  Confidently he took a few steps forward until there was less than a foot between them.

            “You knock that off right now, or I’m going to make you.”

            Beecher only lifted his hands up defensively, a sound trickling out of his mouth that sounded like a growl and Vern smirked and shrugged, “Okay, have it your way.”


	8. Chapter 8

 

            Beecher found himself curled up in the bunk waiting for dinner, not sure if he had won that or not.  He didn’t have make up on, but he did have a black eye and a fat lip, bruises up the side of his ribs, clearly visible with the piece of cloth he was being forced to wear.  He couldn’t even call it a shirt. 

            The fingertip bruises along his jaw made it fairly obvious what else had happened, his jaw sore with how hard Vern had held it while Beecher sucked him.  Brutal and hard, and he had to give Vern one thing.  He had balls.  Robson had stood by and winced when Vern had dragged Beecher up still snarling and baring teeth and pried his mouth open, shoving his cock down his throat and Beecher would love to have bit it off, instead it left him scrambling to cover his teeth with his lips, to submit.  He wouldn’t dare, the consequences of biting Vern would be too high. 

            There was a ruckus from beyond his cell, and he was sure it was Keller coming in, and he curled up further in the corner.  He couldn’t put off them seeing each other forever, but he knew what Keller was going to think, and it went beyond not wanting to antagonize him.  He was embarrassed, all the shit Vern did to him that he could just let it roll off, but that was when it was just dumb fuck Aryans and homeboys and whoever else in the prison looking at him.  Judging him.  It was different when it was Chris. 

            From where he was he could see Keller moving up to the pool table, Vern slapping him on the back with a smile on his face, and there was that anxious twisting in his stomach again because he couldn’t forget that Vern and Chris had a past, had worked together, shared that connection.  Had tricked him before.  It looked like they were moving him into the cell across from Vern, and he was sure that was intentional, just to fuck with them.  His body language was happy, relaxed, and Chris always had been a good actor, but Beecher didn’t miss it as his eyes scanned the room, looking for him he was sure.

            Vern noticed too and dropped his arm from Keller’s shoulder, pointing towards his cell.  “Go set your stuff down and come play a game, Beech can set your bed up for you.”

            Chris nodded, “Yea, sure.  Sounds good.”

            Though he would like to stay where he was hiding forever he didn’t wait for Vern to call him out, didn’t pretend like he didn’t understand what was going on.  He cross the room with his head ducked, flushing at the catcalls, until he was in front of the other two men.  Staring at the floor seemed to be a safe place for a prag so he kept his eyes down so he wouldn’t have to see the look on Chris’ face.

            Not that he had to be worried about it.  If Keller glanced at him it couldn’t have been for long, he just dropped his stuff off on the bed and then brushed past Beecher, heading to the pool table.  He couldn’t help looking up at that, watching Keller go, and he him and Schillinger must have had matching looks of surprise on their faces.  After a moment Vern motioned to the cell, “Go on bitch, make his bed and shit and then back to the cell.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            The faster he got it done the faster he could go hide so he didn’t waste any time getting the bed made, taking a moment to breath in the things that smelled like Keller.  He almost took one of his shirts, just so he could hold it and smell him, but Vern would find out and then he would hurt.  He kept glancing towards the table, but Keller never looked at him once.

 

            It wasn’t a mistake.  Three days past by and nothing changed with Keller into the mix.  The first day Schillinger had been more on edge, and Beecher had stared at Keller until he thought he would go blind, but nothing had happened. After the first day Beecher had found his normal clothes on his bed, Schillinger hadn’t gotten the rise he wanted from Keller, so he had lost interest.  And he was at least thankful for that, if only there weren’t other things to be upset about.

            Keller didn’t just ignore him, that would have been expected, would have made things easier. No, instead Keller treated him like he did every other prag in unit B.  He barked orders at him when he needed something, he joined in the mocking, and stood between him and other groups when they started shit. 

            Vern had flip flopped on the no talking rule, had reminded Keller a few times when he did, but eventually he realized that it was normal for some talking, and since Keller hadn’t said anything to Beecher that he wouldn’t to anyone else he lifted it.  Only no touching was left, and as the days went by Beecher found himself staring at Keller all the time.

            He ached, he wanted to touch him, wanted Keller to hold him, and this was worse than him not being there at all.

            He was still delivering mail with Vern, waiting for him to go get the cart, when suddenly Keller grabbed his arm and slammed him against the wall.   Beecher whined and tried to reach for him, tried to kiss him but instead he got a slap across the face.

            “Listen up.  I love you Toby, I do.  You know that.  But I’m not going to die here like this.  So get the fuck over it and stop mooning after me.  Got it?”

            He brought his hand up to his face, touching the sting there and met Keller’s eyes, looking for some sign that he was lying.  That he was doing this to cover up for something but Keller just stared back at him.

            “Chris-”

            “You made this choice because you’re a pussy bitch that panicked and ran back to your old owner. You’re Vern’s prag.  Act like it before you get us both killed and leave me the fuck alone, bitch.”  He slammed him against the wall one more time, hard enough to bruise, and then stalked out of the room.

            Beecher watched him go, working his jaw to loosen it from where it had tightened after the slap.  Keller’s words sunk in and he wasn’t hurt, he was _pissed._   Oh, he’d show him Vern’s prag.  He stomped in the opposite direction that Keller had gone, catching Vern just as he was coming through the door and shoved him backwards.

            Shock skittered across Vern’s face, wariness that Beecher had the feeling wasn’t there before Keller had showed up, but he let himself be pushed until his back was against the wall.  Beecher glared him down, reaching for Vern’s pants, trembling hands shaking as he undid his belt.

            Vern glanced the way they had come, looking for hacks but then grinned down at Beecher, “Well, what got in to you?”

            He slid to his knees, yanking Vern’s pants down and was on him in an instant, sucking him down into his throat, setting up a brutal pace that hurt but he didn’t care.  Vern placed one hand behind his head, giving Beecher a toothy grin and wrapped his other hand in his hair but let him do his thing, grunting when he came.  Beecher pulled back slowly, licking Vern clean, before tucking him back in his pants and looking up at him. 

            “What the fuck was that all about?”

            Beecher could feel his mouth twist, knew the crazy was coming out, but Vern wasn’t scared of it.  “I’m your prag aren’t I?  Just doing my job.”

            Vern laughed and shook his head, “Don’t see me complaining.  Come on, get up and we’ll do the other job we have.”  He helped Beecher to his feet but Beecher pressed against him before he could move away from the wall and closed his eyes as he ground his crotch against Vern’s thigh.  He felt the hesitation in the other man, not sure if he wanted to push him away or pull him closer, but pushing away finally won out.

            “Beecher, are you high?”

            “No.”  He shook his head and leaned into Vern, “No, drugs.  Rule number one.”

            “That’s right, rule number one.”  It only took another tug of his arm for him to relent and follow Vern into the other room, to trot alongside him.  Vern was giving him a look, probably thought that he was unstable, but he was more settled than he had been in a long time. 

            Before Keller had showed back up him and Vern had settled into a comfortable relationship.  If you had tried to explain that to him before Oz, if you tried to explain it to anyone that hadn’t been through the trauma he had, it probably would have made no sense.  Would have seemed impossible, but after so many bad things happen you can’t hold on to them all, it isn’t possible.  So he’d let them go and life had been easier.

            When he forgot about what a horrible person Schillinger was, what he believed in, who he killed, all he had to do was exist next to him.  Vern was a talker, and he wasn’t particularly smart but he could be funny.  Could be interesting.  Not often, sure, but once he caught Beecher laughing at one of his jokes, or Beecher watching him tell a story over the top of the magazine he was reading while he pretended not to listen, he had started to include him.  Just because he was there.  He was someone to listen to him, and Schillinger loved that almost as much as he loved being a dick. 

            Keller showed up and Beecher had thought... yea he had thought that Keller was going to save him.  Protect him, do something crazy.  He was heartbroken that he didn’t seem to care, and he was embarrassed, because he had expected Keller to do anything to get him back.  And in the end, he hadn’t even tried very hard.  It hurt his pride, and he hadn’t even thought he had any left.

            So he’d go back to the way he’d had it with Vern, because if Keller didn’t want him then he didn’t want...  He bit down on his lip because he couldn’t even force himself to _think_ it, let alone believe it.

            Even after all this time Em City was still the hardest for him, and he slunk in like he always did.  Ryan was nowhere to be seen and that was a letdown, but he motioned at Vern and when he nodded he jogged his mail over to Ryan’s pod, knocking on it so he wouldn’t startle Cyril. 

            “Hey Toby.”

            “Hey Cyril, I got your brother’s mail, I’ll set it down right here, okay?”

            “Yes.”  He set it down on the bunk and turned only to have Cyril block his way.  Nervously he tried to edge around him but Cyril’s arm blocked the door.

            Ryan’s brother might be slow, but he was still big.  The boxing had proved that he could fight, and Beecher knew when pushed he lashed out, enough to put men bigger than him into a coma.  He had to diffuse whatever was going on, because he didn’t need Vern coming over to make Cyril move.  Or the shitstorm that Schillinger laying hands on Cyril would cause.

            “Do you know where Ryan is?”

            “I have to go Cyril, can you please move?”

            “I saw your friend.”  Cyril still looked friendly and Beecher wasn’t sure who he was talking about.

            “Friend?”

            “He was talking with Ryan.  Ryan said you might come back to Em City.  Do you know where he is?”

            It had to be Keller.  Was Keller plotting something with O’Reily?  Beecher could see Vern looking for him now, mouth twisting into a frown when he was still stuck in the pod.  He smiled at Cyril, “I haven’t seen him.  I have to go to work, Cyril.  Can you please move for me?”  Vern was heading towards them, “Please Cyril, you’re going to get me in trouble.”

            “Oh.”  That triggered something for him and he moved out of the way.  “Bye Toby.”

            “Bye Cyril.”  He slipped out of the pod just as Vern got there, and he watched him glare at Cyril before looking back to Toby. 

            “What the fuck was that about?  Plotting something?”  
            “It’s just Cyril, sir.  He was just telling me about miss sally.  I’m sorry.”

            Beecher glanced back at Cyril and caught him glaring at Vern, the person that he must have been before his accident slipping through when he saw him like even the brain damage couldn’t stop him from hating Vern. 

            “Well if you’re done socializing sweetheart, we need to go.”

            Vern was pissed and people were looking so Beecher stood on his tip toes, hand on Vern’s shoulder and kissed him on the cheek.  “Yes, sir, I’m sorry.”  And without waiting for a response, and ignoring the whoops from the Em City inmates he went back to the cart and started to push it.  Vern stepped in to line with him and a glance over said the bad mood was gone.

 

 

            Keller slipped out of the closet, leaving O’Reily to head out a few minutes after him.  He knew that right about now Beecher was probably all over Vern.  His boy was nothing if not predictable, and whenever Chris hurt him, he retaliated by fucking around as much as possible.  He didn’t need to stick around to know what had happened after he left him in the mail room, he knew what his bitch would do.  Beecher had been _pissed_ , but he wasn’t a fighter so the only way he knew how to get revenge would be to fuck around with Vern.  He’d forgive Beecher when this was over though, he didn’t blame his Toby.  It was one of the things he loved about him.

            He couldn’t tell him though, Beecher couldn’t be relied on to follow through, to play his part without breaking, so it had to be this way.  Sure, he would have lost some of his trust, but he’d done worse to Beecher and still won him back.  It was a game that the two of them would play until they were dead, or they could.  Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to just be together without trying to destroy each other.  He could do it, maybe, if Beecher did as he was told.  That made him chuckle as he headed back towards his unit. 

            Up until this point he hadn’t had to see Vern fuck his Toby, he got that after their kiss Beecher had been punished hard, tore up, and honestly he was surprised to see Vern letting him have so long to heal.  He bet it would change come tonight, Beecher would want his revenge and there was no way in hell anyone was turning down Beecher when he was determined to fuck.  That didn’t settle well with him, and he was definitely going to do something about that.  He had a few ideas.

            Part of him wanted to fuck one of the prags himself, hurt Toby like watching him fuck around hurt, but that would be harder to get the other man to forgive because all the bullshit aside... really Beecher didn’t have a choice and he did.  Toby might instigate it now with Vern, or with someone else, but at the end of the day if any of them decided to fuck he couldn’t say no.  And he didn’t really want to hurt him, not like that.  That thought made his hand tingle, because he’d be lying to himself if it didn’t admit it  made him hard slapping Toby across the face like that, watching the shock and pain, the little bit of fear, filter over his face.  Maybe just one blowjob from a prag wouldn’t hurt anything.  He nodded to himself, yea, fuck better than his right hand.

 

            Vern and Beecher were just walking back in the unit when Winthrop stumbled out of the supply closet wiping his mouth, Keller close behind him doing up his pants.  He gave a cursory glance to Vern, nodding at him, before shoving Robson and laughing as they grabbed a pool stick.  Beecher didn’t even let his steps falter as he headed towards their cell.  Vern followed him in, watching him, and Beecher only hummed as he nudged open the chest in the room, Vern’s chest, fishing out a hoodie and pulled it on.  Chest shut he turned, smiling at Vern as he side stepped him, and pulled himself up onto the top bunk.  He hesitated once he was up there and leaned over to reach the bottom bunk but couldn’t quite reach his book.  He looked up and met Vern’s eyes, who looked like he was at the theater watching a particularly entertaining show.

            “Will you please hand me my book, sir?”

            Vern nodded, grabbing the book and straightening up, holding it out.  When Beecher grabbed it he didn’t let go though, waiting for Beecher to meet his eyes.

            “What new level of crazy is this Beech?”

            “I like to sit up here, I can see better.”  He touched his hoodie, Vern’s hoodie, and shrugged.  “Smells like you.  Feels safe up here.  I’ll move if you want.”

            “You aren’t sleeping up there.”

            Vern let go of the book and Beecher wiggled until his back was to the wall, and intentionally left his feet dangling off the edge so Vern wouldn’t bitch at him about his feet on the bed.  “Just figured you wouldn’t mind while you were playing pool.”

            “I don’t.”  Vern glanced out at Keller and back at Toby.  “Is this about him?”

            Beecher followed his gaze and landed on Keller and when he looked back to Vern he shook his head and his voice didn’t waver, “For once, I honestly don’t give a fuck about Chris Keller.  I just want life to be easier.  I just want... there’s just no fight left, sir.”

            Vern clicked his tongue, “Well fuck, I think I broke you Beecher.”

            He shrugged, “That’s what you wanted anyways, isn’t it?”

            “Yea.”  He didn’t sound like he was sure he believed that and Vern patted his knee, “Don’t kill yourself or any other stupid shit like that, okay?”

            “Very compassionate, sir.” 

            He didn’t imagine Vern’s face light up and Vern patted his leg again, harder this time.  “Ah, there is still some fight there.”  The sounds of a game of pool starting made it to them and Vern nodded towards it, “You know how to play pool, bitcher?”

            “I do.”

            “Come on, let’s see.”  Vern craved the challenge, they both knew it, and if he wasn’t going to get it one way he would get it another way. 

            Beecher shook his head though, “Robson will kick my ass if I play pool.  He doesn’t like prags touching the table.  He says it’s unlucky.”  He flipped the page in Mein Kampf, staring down at the words, adding, “Sir.”

            “You know that I’m the one in charge here, right?  Not Robson.”

            “Yea, that I know.”

            Vern pointed at him, “Keep your feet off my bunk.”

            “Yes, sir.” 

            Vern started to leave when he turned back and waited until Beecher met his eyes, “I know what you are doing here bitch, don’t think you have me fooled.  I’m letting it go because honestly, it kind of entertains me, but don’t push.  Got it?”

            “Yes, sir.” 

           

            Beecher didn’t pay much attention to what any of the Aryans were doing the rest of the day, what Vern was doing, no he spent the time planning new ways to get back at Keller.  This was a game that he had done before, and he was damn good at it. 

            At count he slipped down to his own bunk, staying quiet and behaving.  Like a good prag.  He glanced across at Keller once and he wasn’t looking at him.  He had a lot of time to think about what Chris had said, that he was a ... that he had done this because he was weak.  He had been dead set it was the other way, that he was sacrificing himself for the people he loved, but maybe he had just been scared.  Maybe he had just been looking for an easy out.

            Vern barely talked to him while they waited for lights out, he tried a few times to start a conversation but Vern shut him down, suddenly completely disinterested in him.  A stab of panic couldn’t be stopped, because what if Vern got sick of him.  What would that mean?  Would he just let him go?  Would he kill him?

            Finally it was lights out and he wanted to hear Vern move, waiting for him to come down to the bottom bunk, and like the blow job he planned on putting his all in to it.  He could be a cock slut when he wanted to be, and oh did he want to be now.  Desperately he wanted to rub it in Chris’s face what he couldn’t have in the best way that he knew how.  Or at least the best way he knew how now that he was in Oz.

            There was no movement from the top bunk though and finally he spoke up, “Sir?”

            “What prag?”  Vern didn’t sound like he had been sleepy, just mellow, and Beecher shifted his weight. 

            “Did you...”  Was he really going to ask it?  He had fallen far, but he had never asked Vern for it, had only taken it when he had to but he plowed forward, determined to hurt Chris.  “Sir, did you want to fuck?”

            “Nope.”

            He sat up and looked at the bottom of the bunk, and wasn’t sure what to say to that.  Finally he slid out of his bunk, standing up so he could see Vern.  “Sir?”

            Vern dropped his head back like he was annoyed, “What?”

            “I just thought...”  He’d never had to try to seduce Schillinger before, he shouldn’t even want to, where the fuck was his head at?  He should get back on his bunk right now, and try to figure out what the hell was wrong with him.

            “Thought what prag?”

            He put his hand on the edge of Vern’s bunk and licked his lips, tilting his head.  “Sir, are you sure you don’t want to fuck?”

            Vern let out a long annoyed sigh and sat up to lean in close to Beecher and then spoke in a too loud voice that was clearly supposed to let everyone hear, to embarrass him, “For Christ sake’s Beecher, I don’t want to fuck you tonight, no matter how much you beg for my fucking cock.”

            His shoulders hunched and he was used to humiliation but this was a different kind and he really should let it go but as Vern was rolling over to go to sleep presumably he couldn’t help but whimper out, “Why?”

            Vern was off his bed in a flash, grabbing Beecher by the scruff of his neck and shoving him hard to his knees, making him cry out at the sudden pain.  “Cause I already fucked some other bitch and I’m not interested in you, you fucking cock slut, now leave me the fuck alone so I can sleep.”  He shoved Beecher away hard, leaving him to sprawl on his back in the cell.  Tears filled his eyes and he wasn’t sure why, though it may have had to do with the laughter he could hear down the cell block, already knew that people would be talking about how he had begged Vern to fuck him and got turned down, maybe there was some kind of jealousy that Vern had fucked someone else, and he clumsily climbed into his bunk. 

He raised his eyes to the cell across from him and met Chris’s eyes for a moment before he looked away, pulling his blanket up around him.  For once while he cried Vern said nothing, not even interested in mocking him for it, and had no idea what had happened between earlier and now.  The change left him feeling unsure, vulnerable, and what the fuck else was new.

 

           

            Keller watched Toby long after he had looked away, and he listened to him cry like it was his own personal torture.  He didn’t think there was much worse than watching Schillinger fuck his Toby, but this, this had been rough to watch. 

            It hadn’t been hard to do, just pay off the right people to taunt Vern about not having a handle on his prag, about going soft, about having a girlfriend instead of a prag these days and he knew he would turn on Toby.  He hadn’t wanted to do it and wished he could let him know the plan, bring him in on it, because he recognized the crying he heard now.  Lonely, scared.  Desperate.  Vern was a fuck and Toby hated him, or at least he had, Chris wasn’t entirely sure where he stood now, but it was someone to take care of him.  Someone whose attention he had and that made him feel like he wasn’t alone. 

            The guy above him was chuckling and glanced down at Keller, “Man, that bitch is losing it.  Was he like that when he was yours?”

            Keller shook his head but didn’t explain his answer, didn’t offer any other information, and eventually the man went back to his own bunk.  He didn’t fall asleep until Beecher did, even though he knew that he was going to need the sleep.  If tonight was bad, tomorrow was going to be worse.

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

            The jokes were louder, more insistent, than they had been when Toby first showed up in Unit B.  Schillinger had a constant shit eating grin on his face, watching Toby react to what was being said.  Watched the mask of indifference finally crumble, leaving Beecher staring at the table with a red face, fighting tears. 

            It was only then that Vern laughed and waved his hand, “Alright, alright.  Can I eat my breakfast in peace here?” 

            Beecher turned to Vern, his voice quiet and muddled, “Thank you, sir.”

            “I didn’t do it for you, bitch.”  But he had, they both knew it.  Beecher was afraid to respond at all to it though, to be mopey, or to be excited.  He’d had a good handle on what Vern wanted, what he was going to do until... his mouth tightened and he glanced down the table, until Keller had shown up.  Suddenly he could guess what had happened the day before and he couldn’t help but grind his back teeth.  Of course it was Keller’s doing.

            Not that it mattered, it didn’t change that he had to be careful because suddenly his power was gone with Vern, the little bit he had.  All he could do was exactly what Vern told him and he hated that.  He tried to eat, but his stomach was twisted and his feelings were hurt, and by the time Vern stood up he hadn’t touched anything on it. 

            Schillinger glanced at it as he stood up but didn’t say anything and Beecher followed him out of the cafeteria, his head tucked down.  He chewed on the inside of his cheek as they went to work.  Vern got the cart ready to go but when Beecher went to follow him he put a hand to his chest and backed him up a step.  “Stay here and sort mail.”

            Schillinger was watching his face carefully and he didn’t try to hide his reaction, his disappointment and surprise.  His hurt.  He nodded his head though without complaining, “Yes, sir.”

            Beecher took his place in line with the rest of them, sorting mail with his head down and Robson leaned down close to him, “Looks like someone isn’t so special all of a sudden.”

            Cutler laughed from the other side of the room, “You know what that means.”

            Beecher hunched his shoulders and tried to just not pay attention to what was going on, but it was difficult to do.  Robson chuckled, leaning in close to him and placing a hand on the small of his back, something that a few days ago Beecher would have shrugged off but he wasn’t sure of his place anymore.

            “That means he’s getting sick of you and you’ll be fair game soon.” 

            Toby lifted his head to look at Robson, and the look only made James laugh more, and he quickly went back to his job, tuning out the increasingly dirty comments about what they could do if Vern didn’t keep him to his self anymore. 

            Keller watched from the far end of the room, and as good of an actor as he was it was a struggle to ignore what was going on.  Though he didn’t really think that Vern was done with him, just teaching him a lesson, he had to be prepared.   Because he would kill every single one of the Aryans before he let them gang rape Toby.  He nodded to himself and could feel Beecher looking in his direction but resisted the temptation to look up and meet his eyes.  Not yet, baby. Not yet.

            Toby didn’t eat lunch either, didn’t even reach for a tray as he followed Vern through the line, trying to stick close to him though.  Vern noticed the lack of food and eyed Beecher, but Robson slid in to the seat next to him and reached out to knock Toby upside the head, “You could have fucking gotten your food and given it to me you know.”

            “Sorry.”

            “Dumb fucking prag.  I think you might have fucked him dumb Vern.”

            “Maybe.”

            After lunch meant time in unit B, and Beecher slunk to his bunk, curling up in the corner, not bothering to pick up a book and sat there shivering, stress or cold he wasn’t sure.  His empty stomach didn’t help though.  He was staring at his knees when someone moved in to the cell and he glanced up just enough to see Vern’s shoes before he lifted his eyes.  “Sir.”

            “You know how I feel about a self-pitying prag.”

            “I’m not-”  He bit the words off before he said them, arguing with Vern never worked out well for him.  “Sir, I’m just.”  You didn’t say some words in Oz but how much worse could it get?  “Scared.  I don’t know what I did wrong, I don’t want to do it again.  I don’t want to get passed around Unit B.”

            “Who said you were going to get passed around?”  Vern was leaning his shoulder against the wall now, eyeing him. 

            “Robson.  And Cutler.  They said that now that you’re bored with me...”  For some reason he felt like he was tattling but he pushed on, “That I’d be free game.”

            “You know that you would be if I wanted you to, right?”

            “Yes, sir.”  He looked away, not sure what to say.  Nothing he could say would change what Vern was going to do and a wave of helplessness slid over him.  He had used sex to gain some of that back, in some fucked up way, but now he didn’t even have that.

            “You’re like a woman.   I don’t want to fuck you once and suddenly I’m not interested and you’re crying yourself stupid in the corner.”

            Toby chewed on his lip as he looked up at Vern, “Sir?”

            “You’re not my wife.  You’re not my girlfriend.  You’re my bitch.  You understand the difference in that right?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Good.  Come on.  Play me at pool.”

            Beecher barely glanced towards the room when Vern pointed at him, finger right in his face, “I swear to god if you say anything about giving a fuck what Robson thinks you’re going to get slapped down so hard.”

            A small smile pulled at his mouth though he tried to stop it, not sure the response it would get from Vern, but it made Vern smile and reach out to offer Beecher a hand to pull him to his feet.  Vern let go of him and turned out towards the other room but glanced back, “And grab a fucking sweat shirt or something, I could see you shaking from out there.”

            He grabbed one of Vern’s and pulled it on, zipping it up as he followed Vern.  Keller was leaning against the wall, watching Cutler and Robson play, and Schillinger didn’t hesitate as he reached the table and yanked the stick out of Robson’s hand. 

            Robson looked startled, “We’re playing.”

            “You’re fucking done.”  He held out his hand for the other pool stick and when Cutler hesitantly handed it to him he snatched it away and shoved it at Beecher.

            “You’re fucking kidding me.” 

Vern shoved Robson out of the way and nodded to Winthrop, “Rack the fucking table, sweetheart.”

            “Vern-”

            Schillinger turned on Robson, actual anger on his face and it was clear the other man didn’t expect that and he jabbed Robson in the chest, “I hear you’ve been talking about disobeying my orders?  Doing shit behind my back?”

            He was confused, and Beecher could see the struggle on his face as he tried to figure out what Vern was talking about.  His eyes landed on Toby and it must have clicked because he looked back to Schillinger and snarled out, “This is about _him?_   That scrawny little bitch?  You’re mad at me because I said I was going to fuck your little girlfriend?”

            Schillinger’s fist flew, making everyone jump as it connected solidly with Robson’s face, the surprise alone enough to knock him off his feet and land him on the ground.  Schillinger was over him instantly, though he didn’t touch, not with the hacks watching now.  And he lowered his voice, “I run the brotherhood.  The minute you start thinking that you can go against what I say you’ll be fucking out.  And then who will protect you?”

            He didn’t wait for an answer, just turned back to the table.  “I’m breaking.”

            Toby nodded from where he stood on the far side, he had put distance between them as soon as the fists came out, and he shot a wary look at Robson who was glaring at him and not at Schillinger, of course.  He gave him a helpless shrug, because he didn’t do anything.  Cutler grabbed Robson’s arm and pulled him to his feet and the man huffed before he stomped off, Vern shooting a bored look in the direction he was going.  “Guess he didn’t want to watch.”

            Everyone was quiet, not sure what happened, and Vern glanced around, snapping out.  “Carry on.”

            It kicked everyone back into action, shooting the shit and he looked to Toby as he lined up the shot.  “I know that yuppie lifestyle meant you played pool.  Don’t shit play, got it?”

            Beecher nodded, and it wasn’t hard for him to pull up a smile, watching Robson get put in his place was always enjoyable.  There was really no way in hell he would beat Schillinger though, that was just asking to get his ass kicked.  It was nice to get to play though.

           

            Toby treaded carefully though, it seemed like Vern had relaxed but he didn’t want to say something wrong, didn’t want to set him off again and with all his focus on Schillinger he didn’t pay much attention to Robson.  Not until at dinner when he was walking to the table and Robson bumped in to him and whirled on him.

            “Out of the fucking way Prag!”  Robson slammed his hand into the bottom of Beecher’s tray sending it and the food flying.  Beecher could only stand there, frozen, as the hacks came forward to grab Robson, and when they got close he turned on them and chucked his own tray at one of them and they could only watch as they dragged him out of the cafeteria kicking and screaming.

            Toby looked around at the mess and startled when someone nudged him in the back.  He turned expecting Vern but was faced with Keller.  He stared up at him but Keller only raised an eyebrow at him and handed him the one of the trays he was holding.

            “Thank you.”

            “Don’t thank me, bitch.  O’Reily sent it.”  Beecher looked up at Ryan behind the counter and met his eyes, nodding his thanks. 

            He made his way to the table and slid into the seat next to Vern, and he noticed that Keller was sitting across from him instead of putting distance between them, but he couldn’t deal with that now.  Vern glanced at him, “What the fuck was that about?”

            “I’m not sure, sir.”  He glanced the way that Robson had gone.  “I didn’t do anything, I swear.”

            “He’s just moody.  He’ll calm down.”

            Beecher had just looked down at his food when Keller spoke up, “Guess he took you choosing your prag over him a little hard.”

            Toby practically bit his tongue he startled so hard, and glanced up, not understanding why Keller was starting with Schillinger over Robson.  It made no sense.

            Apparently not to Vern either who met his eyes with a raised eyebrow, “Is there a reason you give a fuck?”

            “No, not really.  Just an observation.”

            “Fuck you Keller.”

            Keller laughed and went back to his food, but Toby could feel Vern shift next to him, could practically feel the man trying to think out what was going on.  It reminded Toby that Keller was almost definitely working with O’Reily to do something, and he wanted to believe that included him, but he couldn’t count on it.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Lights out!”

            Beecher grumbled as it went too dark to see the book in his hands, dropping it on to the floor next to his bed.  He laid back and startled as something hit him from the top bunk.  He scrounged around until he found it, a packet of lube, and his stomach dropped.

            “Get yourself ready, prag.”

            Beecher tilted his head, that had never been given to him as an option before.  He didn’t feel exactly like he had the night before, but it only took a glance across the hall at Keller to renew the whole reason he’d wanted to fuck Vern in the first place. 

            “Yes, sir.”  He pulled off his clothes, and after some consideration hiked his legs up, reaching down to touch himself with slick fingers.  He could have turned away from the hallway, probably should have, but part of him hoped Chris was watching.  A wolf whistle came from somewhere in another cell and he was starting to rethink putting himself on display, but it was a little late now. 

            Vern hadn’t said how long he would have to prepare himself, so he didn’t waste much time, pressing two fingers in, and couldn’t stop the moan that tumbled from his mouth even though he quickly tucked his head against his shoulder.

            Above him Schillinger chuckled, “Fuck, you really do want it, don’t you?”

            Beecher squeezed his eyes shut as he stretched himself out, and was up to three fingers moving smoothly by time Vern jumped down, pulling off his clothes.  He pulled his fingers out and rolled over on to his stomach, facing the area between the cells but Vern was tugging him off the bed.

            “Sir?”

            He was suddenly standing next to the bed, naked and hard, and it felt so much more exposed than when he was lying in the bed.  Vern settled on the bed on his back and reached for Beecher’s arm, tugging him towards him, “Come here, prag.”

            Beecher’s stomach lurched, and he really hadn’t expected this.  Awkwardly he straddled Vern, not sure where to put his hands, finally resting them on his chest. 

            Vern reached up to pull his head down and kissed him, and it was easier to forget what he was when they kissed.  Vern’s kisses were all rough bites, and thick tongue, and there was no mistaking it for tender.  But Beecher liked it, for this, it was what he wanted.  What he needed.

            When hands grabbed his hips and gave a very purposeful shove he pulled away from the kiss, trying to balance with his hands on Vern’s chest as he lifted himself up.  He had to finally reach behind him with one hand, wrapping his hand around Vern’s dick, stroking it out of habit a few time before he lined it up with his ass and slowly pushed down. 

            Vern liked it hard, liked it faster, but besides that he was still sore it wasn’t a position they had done before.  He’d never been made to be on top with Schillinger, no, he had done it with Chris a time or two, but it wasn’t one either of them preferred.  Beecher liked to feel dominated, held down, and Keller was more than willing to accommodate that.

            Schillinger’s patience wasn’t endless and the hands at his hips suddenly tightened, yanking him down as hips slammed up in to him and he barely smothered a shout, scrambling to hold on to Vern so he wouldn’t be bucked off.  Fuck.  It felt good, better than he thought it was going to, the angle they were at meant the thrusts slammed directly into his prostate and it only took a few times before he was trying to help.  Before he was moaning, choked off sounds that he buried his head in his shoulder to hide, not so much from Vern but to keep the hacks from coming. 

            “Fuck, Toby.”

            All he could do was grunt in response, his dick was hard and leaking, pressing up against his stomach and he had a moment to be concerned about what would happen if he came like this, came on Vern’s chest and the beating that would follow when they were suddenly moving. 

            He had forgotten how strong Vern really was, that Vern hadn’t spent all these years in prison getting lazy, but was reminded when he grabbed Beecher under the thighs and lifted them both up, landing Beecher on his back on the bed with Vern over him, giving him the leverage to slam in to Beecher so hard his hands scrambled to grab the bed frame to keep his head from being slammed in to it.

            With his head lulled back he could see across to Chris’ cell, and something twisted in his stomach when he met his eyes, Chris watching everything that was going on.  They locked eyes and Beecher couldn’t look away as they stared each other down.  Vern’s thrusts were getting erratic, getting close to cumming, and Beecher’s eyes snapped back to him in surprise when a hand wrapped around his cock.

            Vern had never touched him like that, he came when they were together between the slams to his prostate and sometimes from touching himself, but it had never been at Vern’s hand. 

            He tried to tell him that he was going to come, but all that managed to make it out of his mouth was a whimper and then his body tensed up as he came, Vern stroking him a few more times before he wiped his hand on the blanket with a mildly disgusted look on his face, grabbing Beecher’s hips with both hands and slamming into him a few more times before orgasmed, digging his fingers into Beecher’s hips hard enough to bruise before he collapsed over him.

            Toby was already stunned, but then Schillinger had his face again, kissing him and normally as soon as the man came he would be out of the bed and up to his own bunk, but here they were covered in come and Schillinger’s tongue was still down his throat.

            When Schillinger pulled back he pointed at Beecher’s face, “You tell anyone I touched you and you’ll regret it.”

            He nodded, still tongue tied as he watched Vern pull away and climb up on to his own bunk, and it was almost comforting to hear the threat because that was the Vern he was used to.  That had gotten away from him, he had intended to make Vern enjoy the sex that much, to wrap him around his finger by way of his cock, but he hadn’t expected for _him_ to like it.  He made a face as he glanced down at himself, wiping his cum off his stomach as he took a deep breath and rolled over on to his stomach, looking for Chris.

            The man was watching him, like he knew that he would be, and he pushed aside his concerns, his confusion to mockingly blow him a kiss, a little unsettled when it only made Keller give him that grin.  The one that said he was about to throw him down and fuck him till he was sore and exhausted.  He flushed and quickly looked away, trying to get comfortable, but a certainty had worked its way into his head, and he was having trouble letting it go enough to fall asleep.  They were all so fucked.

           

            “I know you’re planning something.”  Beecher slammed his hands down on the magazine Keller was holding, leaning in to his face.

            “Fuck off Beecher.”

            He didn’t have long, Vern would be back with the cart, and he moved until him and Keller were nose to nose.  “I know you’re fucking planning something and I want to know what.”

            Keller rolled his eyes and reached up to shove Beecher back, “Fuck off, god you smell like Vern.  I’m not planning anything, bitch.”

            “Chris.”  The tough front he had tried slipped away, he was desperate for Chris to give him some indication, some sort of sign that he still cared about him.  That this was part of a plan.

            Keller leaned back in his chair, eyeing Beecher.  Toby’s hopes were dashed as he shook his head, “What, are you not getting enough cock?  Trying to wrangle up some more?”  When Toby just stared he stood up and tilted his head towards the direction Vern had gone, “You think I’d ever want you again after watching you riding his cock like a two dollar whore?”

            Beecher watched Keller walk away and no angry words came to mind and he finally whimpered out, “I love you, Chris.”  He was sure he saw Keller hesitate for a moment, but he kept moving without turning around. 

            Schillinger was heading back and he schooled his features so the heart break wouldn’t show, and by the time Vern came in he was smiling.  Schillinger paused and looked at him before he glanced at the empty room.  “Where did Keller go?”  
            Beecher just shrugged.  “Am I delivering today with you?”

            “Yea,  you’re coming with me.”  Vern shoved the cart at him and Beecher was relieved he didn’t have to stay and work next to Keller all day.

            He had intentionally been keeping his attitude in check but he couldn’t help it as he started to push the cart and glanced sideways at Vern, “You missed me yesterday.”

            “You don’t know me, bitch.”

            Beecher had to fight back a laugh at that because really, he probably knew Vern better than any of the men that stood by his side in the brotherhood, probably better than anyone.  But he nodded his agreement anyways. 

            Beecher followed Vern in silence, and as they approached Em City Vern leaned towards him.  “I saw some new bitch in Em City yesterday.”  Vern glanced at him, laughing that stupid braying laugh, “Don’t get jealous now sweetheart.  Was just thinking maybe I’d get him as a present for Robson.”

            Beecher couldn’t help it as he shifted uncomfortably, rape was common place in Oz, he was a victim of it, but the way Vern blatantly talked about it wasn’t right.  Vern was looking at him like he was waiting for some kind of response but he only looked at him and Vern eventually shrugged.  “I forget. You’re delicate, aren’t you?”

            He shrugged, “Sir.”

            Vern snorted, “His name is uh...”  Vern glanced down at the mail, “Guenzel.  Adam Guenzel.  Was convicted with our little Winthrop, but his sentencing was delayed.”  Vern made it nearly all the way to the gates when he realized he had lost Beecher.  He turned and Toby was standing there, mouth open, shock.  Vern frowned, “Get the fuck up here, what are you doing?”

            He moved before he thought about it, following the order, and when he reached Vern he muttered out, “I know him.”

            “You know him?”  Vern wasn’t really paying attention, but looked up when Beecher grabbed his arm.

            “I _know_ him.  Our families are friends.   We went to the same school... he’s just... younger than me, but I’ve known him forever.”

            Now he had his attention and Vern gave him a long look, and there was that cruel twist to his lips, “Well, ain’t that lucky for you.  You can get a new bestie.”  Vern grabbed his arm to get him to keep moving when he froze, and then they were in Em City.  Beecher’s eyes scanned until they found Adam and their eyes met at the same time.

            He must have made some kind of movement forward because Vern grabbed him suddenly by the back of the neck.  “Nuh uh, sweet pea.  You stay right here.”

            Adam was heading towards him though, and Beecher recognized that wild panicked look in his eyes.  He’d had that when he walked into Oz, and Schillinger had swooped in to rescue him. 

            “Toby?”

            Beecher opened his mouth to respond but the hand at his neck tightened warningly and Schillinger spoke once Guenzel was close enough.  “Hello Adam.  I don’t think we’ve met.  I’m Vern Schillinger.”

            “Like I give a fuck.”  Beecher felt his eyes widen at that and Vern’s fingers tightened until Beecher had to fight down a whine, and then dropped his hand.

            “I think you’re going to want to give a fuck here.”

            “Toby, what the fuck is going on?”

            He glanced sideways at Vern and he finally gave him a nod.  “Adam.  What happened?”

            “It’s a shit charge I...”  He glanced back and forth between Vern and Toby and slowly took a step away.  He glanced down at Toby’s tattoo and when he looked back up his face was disgusted.  “Fuck you, bitch.”  He turned on heel and stomped away, glancing nervously back over his shoulder, leaving Beecher staring after him.

            Vern was laughing though and threw his arm around Toby’s shoulders, “Oh, maybe not a new bestie.”

            It was different.  Someone that he had known on the outside, someone that he had spent time with, seeing the tattoo.  Judging him on what he was, and it was different than all the fucks in Oz doing it.  He felt like he might cry and he jerked his sleeves down over the tattoo, not something he was actually allowed to do but Vern only ruffled his hair and shoved mail at him to go hand out. 

            His vision was blurry as he tried to look down, but he forced himself to focus.  Ryan’s mail.  He looked up to see Ryan watching him and headed towards him. 

            “Beecher, you okay man?”

            “Guenzel.  When did he get here?”

            “A few days ago.  He’s an asshole, I hear McManus is looking for a reason to transfer him out of Em City.”

            “Schillinger wants him.”

            Ryan gave him a longer look, and shrugged.  “Why do you care Beech?”

            “I knew him on the outside.”

            “And he just talked shit to you and your owner in public.  Let this one go man.”  Ryan had been casual but he tilted his head, catching Beecher’s eyes and his voice was serious, “That isn’t a suggestion.”

            Beecher pressed his lips together and nodded his head, moving back towards Vern before he could call him back.  It would be nice for one fucking person in Oz to not be snapping orders at him.  To not be pushing him around.  And maybe it wouldn’t piss him off so much if he planned on ignoring it.  But he wouldn’t, when Ryan said it like that he would listen if he could. 

            Only an order from Schillinger would have more weight with him, or Chris.  An ache in his stomach made him feel sick, because after all this time and he knew Chris would still have that much power over him.  He scanned until he found Guenzel, apparently getting bullied by a couple of the Aryans in Em City, and looked away.  Who was he to try to save anyone, he couldn’t even save himself.

            “Get your warm fuzzies with your good ole buddy O’Reily?”

            Honestly he was surprised that Vern hadn’t forbid him from talking to Ryan given the bad blood between the two of them.  As it was he usually didn’t flaunt it, and he shrugged his shoulder.  “He said Adam is an asshole.”

            “I could have told you that.”  As they headed out Vern nudged him, “How you feel about this Bitcher, you going to beg me to leave him alone?”

            He glanced up at Vern and then away as he shook his head.  “No, sir.”

            “Good boy.”

            Beecher tried not to think about it, and when they dropped the mail off to the sister he couldn’t meet her eyes.  For the first time in a long time he wished that he had some kind of drug, that he could just get fucked up and not care.

Vern’s hand settled on the back of his neck again like he could feel that Beecher was losing it, and he pressed in to it, hiding in the submission.  He didn’t have to think, he didn’t have to do _anything_ , just let Vern lead him.  It wasn’t heroin but it would do in a pinch.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Three days later Beecher was curled up on his bunk where he had been as much as Vern would let him, hiding and moping, too depressed to do much else.  He had given up on trying to find out what Keller was doing, had given up even trying to meet his eyes.  There were cat calls up and down the unit and Beecher hunched further in on himself because he knew what that meant. 

He didn’t want to look, turning away to face the back wall, trying to bury his face in the book, but he should have known it wouldn’t be that easy on him.

“Bitcher, come on out here.  Say hello to the new girl on the block.”  He glanced up and Vern was giving him a pointed look so he slowly moved to his feet and out of the cell, head down. 

            Robson had his arm around Guenzel, who was trying to pull away, desperate movements when everywhere he turned was more Aryans.  His eyes locked on Beecher and despite the insult the other day he saw hope flare on his face.

            “Toby, help me.”  He frantically looked at the faces around him, “Toby and I are friends.”

            That only made more laughter ring out, loud and ridiculous, and Vern grabbed Toby to pull him closer.  “You think he is going to help you?”

            Robson had pulled Guenzel closer, edging him towards the supply closet, “He doesn’t even need that tattoo for someone to know what he is.  He isn’t helping shit.”

            Guenzel was still looking to him though, his eyes begging, even as his eyes darted down to look at the ‘bitch’ big and obvious on his arm.  “Toby-”

            Schillinger grabbed Toby’s arm and pressed until he turned around and the back of his shirt was lifted up, and he closed his eyes, wishing he would just be allowed to slink back in to his cell.  “See what that says there, boy?  You think he’s making any fucking decision here?”

            He let go of Toby and shoved him away, and that was good enough of a dismal for him and bolted back to his cell.  Vern snagged him at the last second, and gave him a fake mocking look, “Now sweet pea, you’re not going to be jealous that I’m fucking around on you, are you?  I don’t want to go through days of this moping and moody shit.”

            “No, sir.”  His eyes darted to Guenzel, and Beecher shook his head hard, he just wanted to get back to his cell.

            Vern patted his cheek and let him go, before stalking towards Adam.  Beecher watched them press him into the storage closet, Vern and Robson with Winthrop tagging along, and before the door closed Robson called out, “Keller, you in?”

            Toby wanted to not care, but his eyes snapped to Keller, and he was ashamed of the relief he felt when Keller shook his head, waving him off as he read a magazine.  “Nah, have at it Robson.”

            Robson shrugged, “Your loss.”  And then they were in there with the door shut, and Beecher was left to huddle in his bunk, trying not to cry. 

            He felt the presence at the gate to his cell and knew who it was without looking, but he only pulled his knees up and turned his head.  “Go away.”

            Keller chuckled at that and moved further into the cell, leaning on the wall across from Beecher.  “I thought you were going to put up such a bitch fit.  I even bet Robson.”

            “What do you want Keller?”

            “Well, I think that is fairly obvious isn’t it?”  He moved closer, resting his hands on the top bunk, boxing Beecher in.

            “A shank to the back.”  Beecher looked up, and his face dared Keller to say anything about the tears on his face.  “Again.”

            Keller’s smile faltered for a moment and his eyes narrowed.  He still didn’t know if it had been Beecher, and he never would, and it felt good to still be able to dig at him with it.  “You know what I want Toby.”

            “You told me you didn’t.”

            “Yea well, sometimes certain things have to be said.  To make certain things happen.”

            “Why are you telling me this now Chris?”  His shoulders slumped and he just didn’t have it in him, “I told you I loved you and you told me to fuck off.”

            Keller nodded his head at that, “I did.”  He crouched down so he could look Toby in the eye, “I’m here because I’m telling you that you need to keep your fucking mouth shut about Guenzel.  Don’t try to help, don’t talk to him, as far as you care concerned he doesn’t even fucking exist.  Understand?”

            His heart had been pounding, and the words tore at him.  Ah, that was what he wanted.  “Is that an order?”  The sarcasm was all he could muster and then it was gone.  “O’Reily already warned me off.  Don’t worry, I’m not planning on trying to help anyone.”

            Keller nodded, “Good boy, Tobe.”  He reached out to touch Beecher’s hair but he jerked away, glaring at him.  

            “Don’t fucking touch me.”

            “Yea yea.  Not even going to try to help yourself either, huh?”

            “Please just leave me alone Chris.”

            “Alright.  Just don’t forget what I said.”

            Keller was gone just like that and Beecher buried his head against his knees.  For a while he had almost gotten a handle on being in prison, on what it took, but he had lost it.  He never was going to able to be like Schillinger, like Ryan.  Like Chris.  It should be a comforting thought, that he couldn’t bring himself to be that kind of person, but really it just made the next 9 years loom over him like a dark cloud.

 

            Guenzel sat huddled next to Robson, dressed up like Winthrop, a half shirt and his hair in little barrettes, but Beecher barely glanced at him as he settled next to Vern.  Beecher made a point to not look, to not ask, though he knew that Keller hadn’t fucked him.  Knew that after that first time Vern hadn’t touched him.  And he was fucked up because that soothed something in him. 

            “Beecher.”

            Why Guenzel would still try to talk to him he didn’t know, and he turned in towards Vern, making a point of not paying attention.  Vern noticed and kicked Robson under the table, “Tell your prag to learn some manners.”

            Robson frowned, getting the boy had soothed some of his anger, but he was clearly still miffed about what had happened.  “Not my fault your bitch is so sensitive.”

            They glared at each other for a moment before Robson turned and caught Guenzel with a backhand.  “Mind your fucking manners!”

            An answering rage flared up on Adam’s face and Beecher cringed, keeping his eyes down on his food.  If he kept that up it wouldn’t be good for him.  The man should just give up and roll over, like he had.  He was the shining example of how guys like him turned out when they went to prison, wasn’t he?

            “Vern, you mind if I deliver the mail today?”

            Beecher looked up to Keller, and even though the words were casual, even though there was nothing out of the ordinary he felt something tense up all the way from his stomach to his shoulders.

            “Why?”

            “I got some business with someone in protective custody.  Would like to have a face to face with them.”

            Vern waved his hand, “Whatever.”

            “Do you mind if I bring Beecher?  I want to make a point to someone about what can happen if they piss off the Aryans.”

            The disinterest fell away as Vern looked full on at him, and then back to Beecher.  “Do I look like I was born fucking yesterday?”

            At the same time Beecher shoved his tray away and met Keller’s eyes and snarled out, “Fuck you, I’m not going to spend 10 seconds in the same room with you.”

            Schillinger and Beecher both looked at each other, caught off guard by the double outbursts.  It made Cutler laugh from his side of the table, “Y’all are starting to sound like an old married couple.”

            Vern threw him a dirty look, but quickly turned his attention back to Beecher, “You expect me to buy that this isn’t some plan you’ve been working on together.”

            Robson had been watching and leaned forward, “Keller hates the bitch.”  Beecher swung around to look at him, shocked, and Robson clearly enjoyed that, “Is that news to you Bitcher?  He hasn’t wanted anything to do with you since he got here.  Says you can’t love a whore.”

            Beecher shoved his tray at Robson, ramming it in to his.  “Fuck you Robson.”

            “Now whose bitch has no manners?”

            Beecher barely had time to snarl at that when Vern had grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed him forward, his head hitting the table hard enough to make him woozy for a moment, and he came up with blood on his face.  “Watch your fucking mouth Beecher.”

            He tried to choke out a reply, but gagged on his blood instead, holding his hand up to his nose.  Vern seemed to take that as a good enough answer and he nodded at Keller, “Sure, take him.”  Schillinger looked a little too overjoyed to hear how Keller felt, and Beecher could feel him watching his face with a grin.  He held up his sleeve to his nose, trying to stop the bleeding.  It wasn’t broken, just hurt, and when he didn’t think he’d spit up blood he spoke.

            “Sorry, sir.”

            Schillinger laughed and motioned at Robson, “See, at least mine knows to apologize.”

            There was laughter and joking, and Beecher shook his head, trying to swallow down the anger he was feeling.  He glanced up and found Adam looking at him, and the same white hot rage he was feeling on the inside was on Adam’s face, in his eyes, and the man was making no attempt to hide it.  Beecher swallowed hard and looked away.  He didn’t know what it meant, but it couldn’t be good.

            Beecher startled as Vern slammed his hands down on the table, loud and cheerful.  “Alright ladies, let deliver some fucking mail.”

 

            The mail was sorted, placed in the cart, and it was time to go.  Beecher really didn’t want to be alone with Keller, he was sure the man wanted to threaten him some more, and he had no idea why.  He had listened, he hadn’t fought back.  It seemed like a pointless endeavor.  Maybe he wanted to wait till they were in Em City and him and Ryan could both threaten him.

            Keller had Adam backed into a corner, talking to him, and Beecher couldn’t stop the way his face twisted.  Angry.  Jealous.  Mostly the latter, god he was pathetic.  He trotted to Vern’s side, the black eyes and still sore nose too fresh for him to be willing to be cheerful about it, “See you later, sir?”

            Vern chucked him in the chin without looking, “Have fun prag.  Don’t fuck anyone.”

            “Yes, sir.” 

            He might have hung around for another minute, dissatisfied with how little attention Vern gave him, but when Keller caught his sleeve and gave him a tug he nodded and followed.  He didn’t need another smash to the face to remind him to behave. 

            Keller didn’t say anything to him as they moved through the building, though he was grinning to himself.  He looked like he had just won the lottery, and it made Beecher suspicious.  On edge.  It wasn’t until they passed through protective custody without Keller talking to anyone that he realized he wasn’t imagining things.

            He kept his mouth shut until they were past it, until they were heading towards Em City, and as soon as they turned a corner out of view of the guards Beecher moved in front of the cart, grabbing it and stopping it.  “What the fuck is going on?”

            “You know, Robson’s not wrong.  You do have terrible prag manners.”

            The offhand answer only antagonized him and he let go of the cart to move into Keller’s face, poking him in the chest.  “What are you planning to do.”

            Keller nudged him, “Keep moving to Em City.”

            “Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”

            Toby was so close to him he saw the look that flashed across his face so when Keller grabbed his arm hard enough to bruise and started to drag him forward and snapped out, “It’s already fucking happening, just keep your fucking mouth shut and keep moving, _now_ ,” he did.  Because he knew that look, there was no arguing it, when nervousness showed on Keller’s face... when something made _Keller_ nervous Beecher knew better than to argue.

            They were just barely inside the doors when the lockdown sirens went off.  Keller pushed the cart away from him and put his hands up preemptively, though he reached out to grab Toby and pull him with him against the wall, partially blocking him as the place was suddenly swarming with hacks trying to get everyone into their pods.

            It happened so fast that Beecher could only stay where Keller had pushed him, letting the man block him, and he didn’t even know from what.

            Eventually the hacks got to them as Keller pointed to the mail cart as explanation and then they were being dragged back to Unit B and shoved into their cells.  The gates were locked and the hacks were gone to deal with whatever had happened and amidst the yells up and down the cell block Beecher couldn’t help but notice something.

            Vern was missing, Robson was missing, Winthrop, Cutler, Guenzel.  Looking up and down the cells all the Aryans that worked in the mail room were missing.  Slowly Beecher brought his eyes back to Keller, Keller leaning against his bars, who threw him a wink once he was looking at him before he headed to flop down on his bunk, humming some stupid song as he flipped through a magazine.

            What the fuck had happened?

 


	12. Chapter 12

“Did you notice any... signs that Guenzel was struggling?”

            Beecher chewed on his lip before he looked up at the Warden and shrugged, his voice small.  “He was getting raped by the Aryans.  He probably wasn’t taking it well.”

            “Did he tell you what he planned on doing?”

            Beecher shook his head.  “No, I... I didn’t really talk to him at all.”

            Glenn looked down at the papers on his desk, his face set in a grim line.  “But you knew him on the outside?”

            Beecher nodded and looked down at his lap, “I tried to talk to him when he first got here but when he heard... what I was he didn’t want any contact with me.”

            “And by what you were, you mean...”

            Toby resisted the urge to roll his eyes, he didn’t know why that made any difference. He gave it a moment’s thought, if he wanted to continue to answer respectfully or snap at him, and finally gave in to the snapping urge.  “Vern Schillinger’s bitch.  Or have you not seen the tattoo?”

            “I have.  I would think your position with Vern would have made you a prime candidate to be a confidante for Adam.”

            He couldn’t help but snort at that.  Position.  It made it sound like some kind of job he had filled out an application for, maybe had an interview.  Instead of just showing up and having a fuckable ass and a weak will.

            “Schillinger didn’t let me talk to him.  I stayed in my bunk most of the time.  Just ask...”  He trailed off and for a moment the surprise, the shock was on his face again and he couldn’t help look away.  It didn’t matter what he felt for Vern, the news still had rocked him. 

            “Right.  I think I’ve seen all that I need to.  Officer!”

            Beecher nodded and his eyes were tingling, so he bit his lip as hard as he could.  He would not cry over Vern Schillinger.  “I’m heading back to Unit B?”  It had been questions all day, interviews, more questions.  No, he didn’t know where Guenzel and Winthrop had gotten the shivs.  No, he didn’t know that they planned to kill as many Aryans as they could.  No, he didn’t know they planned to kill themselves.  He’d been out of the mail room at the time, delivering mail with Keller.  Of course.  So convenient. 

            “Actually, we’re transferring you.”

            He couldn’t help but wince at that, “Not to protective custody right?  I didn’t have anything to do with this Warden, no one is after me.”

            “No, not to protective custody.”  The warden tilted his head as he looked at him and Beecher didn’t understand the look.  “You’re going back to Em City.”

            “Emerald City?  I’m going back to Em City?  McManus is letting me in?”  There was suddenly a light at the end of the tunnel because being back in Em, his heart was racing and if this was a joke he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make it through.

            “Yes, he requested that you come back, give you another chance.  He figured now that ... most of the Aryans are dead, you would fit in better there.”

            “Thank you.”  And he really meant it.

            The door opened and one of the guards motioned to him and he followed, numbly.  They brought him back to Unit B to get his stuff.  It was like a ghost town now, 8 Aryans dead left a lot of room.  He packed up the stuff that was his, unable to help it as he grabbed one of Vern’s sweatshirts.  He wasn’t up for dealing with his feelings about it yet.

            He glanced at the cell across from him, expecting Keller to be there but it was empty.  Maybe they were still questioning him somewhere, or maybe.  No, he squashed down the thrill of hope, because things didn’t work out like that for people like them.

            Finally he had all his stuff and nodded to the guard, following him silently, blocking out the catcalls and yells.  With any luck it would be the last time he ever had to lay eyes on Unit B.

            Coming back in to Em City was like coming home, or what passed for home in a place like Oz.  McManus was at the gate waiting for him and he gave him a stern look.  “Beecher, I know things have not always been good for you here, and I know some of those were out of your control, but I’m asking you follow the rules.  Can you do that?”

            “Yes.”  He licked his lips, part of him still sure that this was going to be some kind of joke.  “Thank you McManus.”

            He got that small smile from McManus, the one that meant the man really was probably trying to do his best, and then he was following Murphy to his new pod.  They went up the stairs, and he had to admit, he did like the ones on the upper level.  Murphy left him at a pod and he stepped inside, noticing that there was already a bed roll on the bottom bed.  He dropped his stuff on the top, and barely had time to wonder who they had bunked him with when he turned to find Keller standing in the doorway to his pod.

            “Keller?”  His voice wasn’t supposed to be breathy like that, was supposed to sound annoyed.  Or angry.  Anything other than the desperate hope that it was now.

            “Guess we’re roommates again Tobe.”

            He moved in, letting the door shut behind him as he Beecher backed up until he was against the bed frame, eyes searching Chris’ face.  Slowly, so as not to spook him, Keller placed his hands on the bed on either side of Beecher, blocking him in.  Toby looked up at him, not quite trusting his voice, “You did this?”

            “Well, with a little help from our Irish friend.”

            That made sense.  He glanced sideways at Ryan down in the common room and then back to Keller.  “How much of ... everything had been a plan?”

            Keller leaned forward to nuzzle against the side of Beecher’s face, but stopped when he jerked his head back and slammed it against the bed frame.  “Easy, Tobe.”

            “How much Keller?”

            “I told you I’d take care of you, baby.  Take care of us.  I just had to make sure that you stayed out of it.  I didn’t want you in the cross fire, I needed Guenzel to not think he needed to take you out as a target.  I needed Robson to think I hated you, I needed Vern to trust you.  Does that answer your question, Toby?”

            He slowly nodded before he realized what he was doing and shook his head.  “After all that you want me to just... what?”

            Keller chuckled deep in his throat and moved closer to nuzzle against Beecher again, but a hack slamming his hand on the pod made him step back before Beecher could push him away.  “We’re here.  We’re together.  Isn’t that enough?”

            “No.”  He’d been through so much, suffered so much at Vern’s hands, and he had needed Keller. 

            Chris reached up to grab his jaw, holding his head still, “There was nothing else I could do.  You put us in this spot and I’ve spent every moment since I got back trying to get us out of it.  And I did Toby, what more do you want from me?”

            They locked eyes and Toby tried to think of what he wanted from him.  He wanted to have never been in Oz.  He wanted to not love the sociopath standing in front of him.  He wanted to have never been at Vern Schillinger’s mercy.  He wanted a lot of things. 

            He glanced down at his arm, at the tattoo and jerkily pulled his sleeve down.  He still had another 9 years in Oz, it was a long time to hold on to his anger.  Finally he gave in and dropped his head to Keller’s shoulder, letting out a sigh when Keller’s hand came up to rest on the back of his head. 

            When he spoke he mumbled in to his shoulder, “I can’t just forgive everything, not all at once.  I need time.  I need... I can’t just trust you again.  Not overnight.”

            The fingers stroked at his hair, and it was calming and instead of fighting it Beecher let himself relax against Keller.  “We got all the time in the world Toby.” 

            Toby nodded his head against him before he lifted it, his mouth blindly looking for Keller’s.  Everything he was feeling he put into the kiss, the hopelessness, the fear, the need and he felt it melting away under Chris’ talented mouth.  Under his hands as he pet him and held him, comforted him.  It wasn’t right, but it was Oz, and different rules applied.  When they pulled apart he felt content, felt at ease, and he consciously or not he made the decision to give in to Chris. 

            Toby rested his forehead against Chris’ and they stood there for long moments with their eyes closed before he finally breathed out.  “I love you, Chris.”

            He could feel that Chris was grinning against him, “I love you too, Toby.”

           

            That night in their pod, Beecher didn’t even pretend like he didn’t want him.  He was still angry, but when Chris called him down to the bottom bunk he went without hesitation. 

            “Toby, I’ve missed you so much.”

            He didn’t respond with words, just caught Chris’ mouth with his own, whimpering in to the kiss.  Sex with Keller was different than anyone he’d ever been with before, and he hadn’t realized how much he missed it. 

            His knees were bent up to his chest while Keller stretched him out with two fingers, bending them to press against his prostate every other stroke, laughing and grinning as Toby squirmed and kicked and begged for more. 

            “God Toby, I can’t wait to make you mine.”  He bit down on Beecher’s shoulder hard enough to make him bleed and then licked at it, “Only mine.  Forever.”

            “Yours.”  The word was stuttered out, Beecher pressing his hips up against him, “Only yours.  Please Chris.”

            “Anything for you baby.”  He slid into Toby in one long push, slow enough so he didn’t hurt him, but steady until his balls were resting on him, owning his Toby as much as he possibly could.  He stayed there for long moments watching Beecher’s reaction, finally moving when Toby made an annoyed sound and wiggled his hips.

            Keller rocked in to him with slow hard strokes like they had all the time in the world, like a there was no chance of a hack walking by any minute and breaking it up, but neither of them were worried.  Without him asking, without making Toby beg, Chris wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts, and finally he couldn’t hold out anymore.

            Beecher came with a choked off cry, Chris leaning down to kiss him to smother his moan as it pulled him over the edge as well.  He dropped his head to the pillow next to Beecher, and they just listened to each other breathe.

            Finally Keller gave him one more nuzzle before he pulled out, dropping to lie next to Beecher on the bed.  They would have to move soon, but for the moment they just laid close to each other.  Enjoying that they were back together, that they got to touch each other, comfort each other, love each other. 

There were a lot of hurts that needed to heal, a lot of trust that needed to be mended. They weren’t okay, not yet. 

But they would be. 

 


End file.
